Carrying Simon
by longliveelphie
Summary: Christelle, seeking a way to atone for the death of her brother, returns to the Cullens with nowhere to go. What results is a journey filled with anguish, ecstacy, anger, heartache, and change to her life and the lives of those around her.
1. Prologue

**Welcome to Carrying Simon! If you've stumbled upon this story, I'm sorry to report that it's a sequel. I'll brief you on its predecessor, _Where the Lost Ones Go_. A nuclear war nearly destroyed the earth, and the human race leaves and start a colony called "The Station" in outer space. 150 years later, a young man named Neil is sent on a mission to assess the condition of the earth to deam its habitability. He never returns. His sister Christelle, goes to find him and fufill his mission. Earth has appeared to recover from the disaster, but what she finds are the vampires left behind. She resides with the Cullens, who currently live in the remains of Paris, but is nearly discovered by other vampires and forced to go into hiding. Far away, in what used to be Austria, she finds a colony of feral humans living underground. Eventually, she finds that the vampire hunting her was her brother, turned during his mission. She leaves Earth, bringing the human colony back to the Station, grieving for her loss and angry that the Cullens probably knew Neil's condition without reveiling it to her. Whew, how's that for an intro? Anyway, grab the Goodie of the Day, apple turnover, and enjoy!**

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One would think that I should be accustomed to the sound of the steady beep by now.

It is all I ever hear now; it is always on my mind. Never does it cease, never does it decrease, it only continues, pounding in my brain. It's inescapable; it's in my room, down the halls, on the tongues of the gossipers. No matter how hard my hands press to my ears, it is the only sound I hear.

Sometimes, one of the beeps will die, only to be replaced by a continuous, single note to lasts forever. Its end is no release; it only adds upon the mountain of guilt that fills my being.

Right now, my mind is distracted by my hands, holding my father's pale, weak hand. The silent demon was slow to strike him, for he had been careful, but even now his eyes darkened as the spirit worked its spiteful magic. We had tried so hard to protect each other, to quarantine those already struck by the sickness, but it was too late. It wouldn't be long before my father became another statistic on the Station.

He was sleeping, drifting in and out of consciousness. That was the scariest part, the sleeping, because there was the constant possibility that he wouldn't wake up. Would my nightmares ever cease?

"Christelle?"

I turned my head to face that familiar voice, who somehow always tried to cheer me up. George was, as was the law now, in his white biohazard suit, as was I.

"Yeah, George?"

"You know, you never leave this room," he stated.

"Yeah, and?" I asked more bitterly than I should have been.

"I see what staying here does to you; it's killing you to just sit here and wait. You need a distraction, you need time to think and rest. You're in here all day every day."

"What distraction could I possibly get George, when a fourth of this Station is a constant reminder of father, of grandma, of Jared and Clarice? What do you suggest?" I hated being rude to George, my very best friend, but I didn't feel like being polite to anyone at the moment.

"Anything, Christelle, anything is better than mourning and blaming yourself for all of this."

"But it is my fault! Everyone who has died, their blood is on my hands, George!"

"You couldn't have predicted that this would happen. No one could have. I mean, we washed them and cleaned them so well, and checked them for disease; the possibility that something slipped by was very low."

"Well, we certainly defied the odds didn't we," I spat. "George, please, just let me be." But he was persistent. He placed his arm on my shoulder, resurrecting the old pains. "Please!" He sighed.

"If you need me, just ring me up." There was the sound of his shoes, and the door opening and closing behind me, but all my focus was on my father's face, and the beeping from the machine which never ceased.

Beep, beep, beep.

How could George say this wasn't my entire fault? The evidence was everywhere, with people dying left and right, the sweeping epidemic that no one knew how to cure, and the disease no one had ever seen before. In my blind kindness, I didn't think that any of this could ever happen. All I wanted was to bring those humans out of the darkness, but they received no light in return. Perhaps at first they did, but after a few months, that's when people began to be sick. Only one infected human had to start it all, spreading the virus that waits so patiently for the right moment to strike.

And now everyone I knew was falling. First Neil, then grandma, then Jared, now father…and the list went on an on. It was Neil that still haunted my nightmares. His hope for all of us, his mission, his work, had been in utter vain, extinguished by his awful fate by my doing. The re-enactments of that night plagued my mind every night, and every night since. If I didn't have pictures to remind me, I would have completely forgotten his face, and only remembered the monster in my dreams. Every night, I awoke screaming, every night, it intensified, and every night it haunted me.

Initially, when I returned home empty-handed and broken-hearted, I hated the Cullens. I despised how they kept the secret of Neil from me, how they blinded me with stupid faith that he could be saved. I loathed how they wanted me to find out myself rather than tell me directly. I could have been saved watching his broken face in the message, saved from running into the wilderness, saved from firing the gun. I could have gone home, and not regret, only mourn. Now I was cursed to do both.

Beep, beep, beep.

But after a while, I began to see past my fury. The Cullens were not evil, they weren't cruel, and they just didn't know how to kill my hope. They didn't know how to help me with my goodbyes. Father, grandmother, and all my friends didn't know how to comfort me because they didn't know truth.

He never even received a proper burial. All that was left was ashes dusting the earth forever, fuel for the soil of the plants upon the forest floor.

And I could never forgive myself for that.

"Father?" I called. He didn't respond; I didn't expect him to. "Father, I know you can't hear me, but I'll tell you anyway. My mind is filled with guilt, and I have no one to save me. Many blame me for the disease, for the deaths, and now you've fallen. Neil is always on my mind, and I can't leave him because," and I leaned close to him and whispered, "because I killed him." Father made no movement. My heart lightened slightly; I had never told anyone that. "Father, if you are to leave me soon, then take this to my grave. Not another soul shall know what happened but you. I hope you forgive me, perhaps you will before I forgive myself." There was still no response from him.

Beep, beep, beep.

"I could never atone for my sins, for my mistakes. Maybe you could put in a good word with God for me, will you?"

Beep, beep, beep.

"I hope you see Neil there."

Beep, beep, beep.

"I hope there's a lot of green. You'd like the green, Father. It's absolutely glorious. And I hope there a warming breeze in heaven, and the smell of nature. I know you'd like that."

Beep, beep, beep.

"I hope there's no more metal, no more gray."

Beeeeeeeeeeeeep.

What happens when others lose because of your failures? What happens when the one thing that you did to help others, hurt everyone?

Death happens.

The squished rubber shoes sounded against the floor as one of the nurses entered. She eyed the monitor, and then switched it off.

"Madame, I'm going to have to ask you to leave," she said blankly. I'm sure she had said it many times before. She glared at me, for she knew my face. The whole Station did. I leaned back in my chair, watching blankly as the nurse fold the sheets over Father's head and rolled him out the room and down the hall. That would be the last time I ever saw him.

I didn't know how long I sat in that chair, hours or even days perhaps. My mind remained blank, drifting into the endless night of space…

There was the funeral, where many came. I wished I could muster myself to speak, but my feet were frozen. That day was a blur…

I did my studies, got decent grades. Spent most of my time in my room, looking at pictures…

The captain has died of the plague. The replacement job is up for grabs. I'm sure that much unnecessary political struggle will occur…

Cory has fallen ill. It is doubted whether he will last until the end of the month…

I wasn't sure when I made my decision. Perhaps it had always been in the back of my mind. Without much thought, I packed a bag. I filled it with all my necessities: clothes, toiletries, shoes, two communicators, and our family photo album. Nothing promoted me, but I filled the bag with other things as well. I put in a pack of new piano strings, traveling sewing machine, brand new glass vials and test tubes, extra clothes and shoes, a scanning and printing machine, lots of paper, and several pens and pencils. Perhaps I had known for a while that I would go back, that I would send myself into exile. All I knew was that I couldn't stay here any longer; I couldn't look into the faces of those I'd hurt. There was peace and isolation upon Earth, there was regret and punishment. It was my purgatory, and maybe if I made myself a castaway on Home, I could atone for my mistakes.

"Christelle, where are you going?" said a familiar voice behind me, half scaring me to death.

"Oh, George. What are you doing here?" I said nonchalantly. I turned around to continue hastily packing so that he wouldn't see what I had with me.

"I came to see if you wanted to do something…but I can see you're busy."

"I'm leaving, George," I said, my mouth working before my mind could stop myself. There was silence. I looked at his confused eyes.

"Leaving…leaving where, Christelle?" He asked quietly, not completely comprehending my words. Poor George. I'm sorry.

"Home," I stated monotonously. His eyes widened, and his mouth drooped open. I'm so sorry George. That line repeated in my mind again and again, but it couldn't find my lips to release it.

"N-no, you can't Christelle. You can't leave," he said, unbelieving my words.

"George, I can and I will. There's nothing left here for me," I said, trying not to let any emotion shine though my façade of unfeeling exposition.

"B-but, you have me, and you have Alex and Marissa and Mark and everyone else. Please, don't do this to us-"

"Enough, George," I said sternly as I snapped my suitcase closed. He silenced himself, still at shock, the poor kid. "I'm not doing this to you or to anybody; this is something I need to do for myself."

"What you are doing is suicide. You know what you said; you could die out there," he said, his voice starting to choke.

"I know!" I shouted, unable to take his carping any longer. "I know." I sighed. "But it's a risk that I'm not afraid of. All of this, everything, is at my doing. If I can't fix it, which I can't, then there's nothing left for me here, and nothing you or anyone can say will change my mind."

He said no more. His face was disbelieving, but slowly beginning to accept that I wasn't going to change my mind. Even if kept trying, he could never change what I had already planned; no one ever could. He breathed a deep and pensive breath, running his hand through his messy brown hair.

"Well, then. I can see you don't want me here." He began to turn to leave.

"Wait, you could at least say goodbye to me." He stopped, considering my proposal. Sometimes George was so damn slow. "Oh, just hurry up and give me a hug already." He smiled.

"There's the Christelle I know," he said, sounding just like his old self. He embraced me, giving me a long, deep hug, knowing that this may be the last time I'll ever do so. And I hugged him back, trying to remember everything I could right now; the feeling of his wiry hair which itched my face when he hugged me, his weird smell that I could never figure out, his thin yet strong arms. "Just remember, if you ever want to come back, I'll always accept you." I couldn't help but smile. I was so lucky to have a friend like George. Not many of my friends had been as accepting or empathetic as he. Many had abandoned me after the plague struck or had fallen to it.

"I'll have my communicator with me," I said, hoping to comfort him. I knew if I added on, he would be crushed. I decided to leave out the fact that I didn't plan on answering any calls from anyone on the Station; my exile was meant to be isolated from my old world, and to live facing my past on an alien world. As good of a friend as George was, more brother than friend, I didn't want him to see me in my bitter existence which I was going to commit myself to.

"I'll lead you to a ship," he said. So, the melancholy pair, saying their last goodbyes, walked through the hall of endless beeps, their rhythm never ceasing. It wasn't long until we realized our steps became in synch with them.

Beep, beep, beep.


	2. Reunion

**Sorry this chapter took forever. I promise to update more quickly. Anyway, we'll be changing perspectives for the rest of the story. After much debate with myself, I decided to give Nahuel a gift. Hope you don't think it's stupid (but you wouldn't do that to poor little 'ol me, right?....right?). Enjoy with the Goodie of the Day: honey drizzled funnel cake.**

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It's days like this, when the winter fast approaches, when the calls of the birds begin to die away, when the grass and the leaves dry and decay, that I'm reminded how very short life is. I am the irony in this world. I am the exception. I will never wither like this plants, never die of cold or thirst or pain or disease like the deer and the bears; I will never taste death. I try to stop that bitter end in the world around me; I try harder than anything else to bend time, to stretch out the life of the mortal and make it everlasting. It's not easy to do, considering how very fragile the world is in it of itself. The flowers wilt with the coming winter, as they all have now that it is early November; the forest can burn and turn to ash, and the living become the dead so very quickly.

I've come to learn over the years that stone is the closest thing to eternal upon this earth besides me. Like my skin, it withstands the rain and the cold and the heat, it passes through eons without change and without growing weary and tired. Though of course, give it enough millennia, and it too will succumb to erosion. Still, one cannot help but try.

With the small piece of rough granite, I began to carve a blue-jay using the strong diamond chisel I had fashioned years ago. Despite my constant use of it, the tool had hardly shown any sign of loosing its sharp edge. Perhaps one of my sculptures would last longer if it was made of diamond, but the only thing I could think of sharp enough to cut it would be my teeth, a task that wouldn't be easy to accomplish.

The day was cool, and the sun was hidden behind a layer of gray. I frowned at the sight of the distant clouds, suggesting the first snowfall of the year. I hated snow; I much preferred the constant tropical heat of my homeland. Every now and then, much to my own happiness, we would visit the lands of my youth, but rarely; it's quite a journey to South America from Europe with out boats and planes. Most of the time, I made due with the jungles of Southeast Asia, where it was always lush and humid, and life was everywhere.

As I looked down, I already noticed that my carving no longer resembled a blue-jay, but a quetzal, a bird I had not seen in decades. In excitement, I continued to carve away at the stone, molding the long tail feathers, the short beak, the curious eyes, but no matter what I did, it somehow didn't capture the creature's liveliness and grace. I could never capture the liveliness of any creature I tried to mold with my hands. Perhaps, like my own body, things loose their vitality when they are made of stone.

I looked at my creation and felt a pang of disappointment. Yet again, I wasn't able to be fully satisfied with my work. Perhaps it was because the actual image of the bird was not fresh on my mind, hadn't been for a long time. But no, my memory, like other things, was eternal, and never forgot a day, a detail, or a face. Maybe I just didn't posses the talent to capture the true essence of life, not yet anyway.

"Nahuel, we're going hunting! Want to join?" I heard Carlisle called from the house. I was on the other side of the river, but I heard him with no difficulty. I placed the diamond tool in my pocket and discarded the little bird without a second thought.

I ran as fast as my legs would carry, which wasn't nearly as fast as the any of the vampires in my family. If I could be considered ungraceful, it would be by their standards. By comparison, I was always the slowest, the clumsiest. Even Renesmee and Jacob ran with more smoothness than I. I wasn't ever jealous of the other members of my family, per say, but I always did feel like the oddball of the group, and in many ways, I was. To myself and others, I was the outsider. I was the newest to the group, the least established. Most of my life had been spent in the isolated jungles of yesteryear, with my aunt as most of my company. When I decided to join the Cullens, it was safe to say I lacked social skills. They were, and in some ways still are, quite more sophisticated in manner than I, better at speaking and handling situations. Plus, living in the cold, alien climate permanently placed me outside of my comfort zone.

When I had arrived at my house, everyone was already outside waiting for me. They stood about nonchalantly, as they usually carried themselves. It wasn't like we were ever in a hurry to get anywhere.

"We're going to head near the lowlands, where Emmett thinks there's some pretty big bears still out. You game?" Carlisle said. I shrugged a "sure", which was good enough for everyone. The lowlands were still nice, with only minor effects of autumn in the area. Plentiful game still roamed, but it wouldn't be long before the winter would be so cold that almost nothing was around save for snow hares. Lovely. Though the coming winter meant that we, like all of the other vampires, would hunt mostly in Spain, where there was never any danger of lack of food.

Like any other hunt, we always took off running, Edward leading while Renesmee, Jacob and I straggled behind, never quite catching up with them. I didn't mind though; they were a fun pair to run with, in that the actually did things other than run. Jacob would sometimes insist on a game of tag, which, though I always thought childish, I would participate in anyway. Renesmee in her little tricky mind loved to fling something in front of my face, which unfortunately would make me crash promptly into a tree. It never hurt, of course, but it did give me plentiful irritation.

Today, like the past several hunts, they did no such thing. There had been a very melancholy feel over our family lately, a dead coolness like the remains of the crackled leaves on the ground. The approaching winter was always a cause for worry, but it was this particular year that an overcastting mood seemed to settle upon our lives. It was as if the world, in its own mocking way, reminded us of her everyday, as if it were sad that she was gone, as if we had guilt on our hands. We _did_ have guilt staining us, like wine on the white carpet. Even if you cleaned it up as quickly as possible, a faint outline always remained. Not that Christelle was like a wine stain to us, but our culpability over the events which occurred six months prior was. I never forgot that night she spat on my apologies. I always knew she had a feisty temper, but that night, it was as if she wasn't even the same person, like she had evolved into something that only longed to shut away from everyone, including me.

I snapped out of my head. I had been over this so many times. Thinking about the last time I ever saw her, what brought me a short amount of grief, followed by a longer period of self reflection, was now only something that invaded my thoughts every now and then. I no longer worried over Christelle. She had left a permanent impression on me, but had not left me feeling permanently sad over her departure. Her words to me had, briefly, forced me to see my faults, caused many hours lost to overlooking myself. Those days were over, but she still hung there. But in truth, there really was nothing else to hang onto. Christelle was the newest anything to come into our lives in decades, something that instantly caught our attention. In the beginning, I wondered if she would act like a fad to us, something whose glitter and excitement would fade. But, for whatever reason, her presence never faded completely. It always still held a glimmer, as if she had left before her time was up, as if she wasn't finished with what she started on earth.

"Nahuel, are you there?" Renesmee asked waving her hand in front of my face. Sometimes I wondered just how it was that I could so easily space out, how I could, quite simply, fade into my own world, somehow unconscious of what was happening around me. We were already at the topmost ridge, right below where the warmer lowlands lay. They were still blanketed with the watercolors of oranges, reds, and yellows, unlike the stippling of brown in the higher regions. But in a month or so, even these areas will be unpopulated, meaning we will have to search farther for food. It was never that great of a problem; we had lived through this routine countless times, so it was almost second nature, like everything else we did in this monotonous, repetitive lifestyle.

At this point, we would separate, then return once we had found what we had come looking for. To hunt in a group this large all together would scare everything instantly. It was much easier to find prey if it was cornered by us in all directions. I took a deep breath through my nose, absorbing the intoxicating smell of decaying leaves and the wet ground. I breathed in the world, in every particle it contained, as if not a single part of it could ever hide from me. Ahhh, there it was, a mountain lion, about three miles to the north of us. I turned to Edward; he had smelt it too. He smiled that crooked smile as if to say, "Bet you can't beat me too it." I knew I couldn't. Not only was I the slowest of the group, he was the fastest. I gestured for him to take it; there would be something else for me somewhere. I sucked in the air once more, tasting it on my tongue.

In an instant, two unusual things happened. My mouth picked up something burning, though it wasn't the smell of a forest fire. It smelt like the fires of industry, like gasoline, like kerosene. It was faint, barely noticeable, but my senses were heightened for hunting. The instant I could smell the fire, there was an explosion, such a loud short burst of sound that I was sure the earth was going to crack. But it wasn't an earthquake, the ground didn't move, and I had heard that sound before. Everyone else was just as startled as I was. We snapped our heads as fast as our thoughts demanded the action, as if there was no transition of movement. We all came to the same conclusion that the sound was familiar to us, and then, we knew the answer. There was another sound precisely after the boom, the sound of a streaking force, dragging across the air and digging into the wind. We turned our heads up; it was a meteor, a big one, or at least it appeared to be. But we knew that this was no heavenly body disintegrating into the upper atmosphere. Someone else may have drawn to the conclusion, but my mind raced because I knew what it really was: a spaceship. Another human had come to Earth.

I turned to everyone, who looked just as excited as I felt. They knew exactly what it was, too.

"Alice, who's coming here?" Carlisle asked. Alice closed her eyes in concentration, but quickly gave up.

"I don't know," she said. "Today isn't a good day for me." Ever since Jasper had died, her ability to see the future weakened over time. Some days, she could see brief glimpses of various hours in the day, some days she could see nothing at all. She looked so disappointed to not be able to see our visitor, whom I knew she would greet very enthusiastically.

"Well screw hunting," Emmett said. "I'm going to follow that ship." I smiled in agreement, as did the others. We mostly hunted casually, not waiting for the uncomfortable to burn to appear as we used to; this hunt could wait a day or two. With eagerness strongly flowing through us, we hurried to follow the ship. Even though its brief blaze as it entered orbit ended, we could still follow the burning smell, and our eyes could barely see the outlying trace of the ship in the sky. It was coated with a strange metal that made it almost invisible if you didn't know you were looking for it. We paused often to assess its path of direction. It seemed to be heading directly south, towards our home. We ran ever faster, hoping to catch up with the ship before it landed. I was ecstatic; another face was soon to come, another creature to break the endless streak of sameness. This time, unlike with Christelle, we would not be caught off guard and forced to be the most cautious of house guests. We were better prepared, the smell of human blood far fresher on our minds (though not as well as it could have been).

The points of stopping between burst of sprinting grew farther apart in time. We already had a very good assessment of where exactly this ship was going, which only made us want to run ever faster. I noticed after a while that I had reached my speed limit, though the others could run much faster. I was utterly frustrated, but no matter how much my mind screamed at my legs, I couldn't beg them to replace their steps any further. The rest of them, even Renesmee, whom Jacob was dragging away ever faster, began to separate from me ever so slowly. I didn't want to call for them to slow down; that would be utterly whiny and pathetic of me.

I was suddenly struck with a very real possibility: Christelle. But no, she most definitely made it clear that she never wanted to come back, that she never wanted to see my face as long as she was still breathing. I shook the thought out my head. It didn't matter who it was in the ship, it shouldn't matter to me.

In the soft, fading distance, when I could hear past the blowing air in my ears, I could hear the ship dock down, its sound growing louder; we were growing closer. By now, though, the rest of my family was about fifty yards ahead of me, and by the time we reached the ship, they would be there a hundred yards ahead of me. Dammit.

For a brief second, I considered the fact that no one came up with anything to say to occupant of the ship. How should we account for ourselves? Should we tell the person immediately who we really are? Should we let them draw their own conclusions? Or should we tell them that it wasn't safe here, and that they should leave, forgetting all they were to see? I pondered, and decided that I would do whatever my family was doing. They would reach the ship ahead of me anyway, perhaps already greeting the human. If they approached him slowly, I would as well. If they stayed in the shadows, I would follow suit, although it was overcast; we wouldn't half to worry about our alien skins to him until the sun broke through, which according to Alice, wouldn't happen any time soon.

They stopped ahead, staying in the hidden protection of the undergrowth; it would be impossible to see us from the ship. I slowed, tip-toeing to them without disturbing a single leaf beneath my feet. They were peering out at the spectacle. Reaching directly behind Alice, I was able to see what we had come for. It was a ship, just like the one before. It was small and round, like a large oval seed made of a strange metal. Though I could clearly see the silvery outline of the fine silvery alloy, it was also translucent at the same time, as if it absorbed color instead of bouncing off of it, acting like a form of catalogue. It was supported by five strong legs, which landed softly upon the grass. There was only a dim hum coming from the engine, not the fiery blasts of the much older models. There was only one tiny window, but from where I was standing, I could not see inside.

The humming slowed, and then stopped, leaving the forest as quiet as before. No bird was to be heard, no other sound but the wind rustling what was left of the pathetic dried leaves on the vacant branches. There a soft hiss, barely above a whisper, though my ears easily detected it. The door to the ship began to open upward. A small ramp grew out of the side of the ship, and a human began to walk down the pathway.

It's funny; I was so sure that Christelle was different from anyone I had ever met, that she was somehow special and important. In fact, I knew she wasn't like anyone I'd ever met. There was no one, human, vampire or what have you that I'd ever met that didn't strike me like her. With anyone I ever encounter, I instantly know how they would favor with me, whether we would be friends or enemies, and sometimes even their overall effect on my very_ life_. I always thought it was intuition, but Carlisle always thought it as something more. I can't adequately describe it, but it's as if I look past everyone's bull and see who they really are.

When I first saw Christelle, before I even heard her voice, that gut feeling of mine pounded my insides as if I was hit with a train. I saw before me someone that I, somehow, instantly knew would change my life for the better. Not necessarily in a romantic way, but in a way that would change who I was at my core. As if seeing the future, I knew we would never separate, but whether as the closest of friends of the dearest of lovers, I didn't know.

When I saw her face again, as she descended into the bitterly cold November air, my gut grew more certain of her than ever before. The future, in its own special way, flashed before me. Whatever she left unfinished when she left, she wouldn't keep undone. I knew, just by looking at her, that she would be pleasant and generally cheerful, a gracious guest. But I could also see that she was hiding a very deep grief, one that I wasn't sure if I wanted to tread upon. All would go well today, only, she'll be very cautious around us, especially me. But the thing that I could see most was how the story of her return to Earth would end; it would be the happiest day of our lives, but also the worst. It will be the beginning and the ultimatum. The only problem with this supposed "gift" as Carlisle calls it is that I can't see how to get from point A to point B; I couldn't see _how_ we would get to the point of being inseparable, only that, by some unknown force of nature, I knew it was the end result. Did it even matter? I often asked myself that whenever I saw anyone's face: _does it even matter?_ If a day is to end with a fight with one of my friends, do I avoid them? I've learned that the answer is no; I can't let some silly "intuition" ruin the course of my life. And though I could also see that she will at some point hate me with a hatred that destroys both of our souls, I could also see that I will be blessed by the very best kind of forgiveness. So did it matter?

I threw that thought out the window as I walked out of the shadows to greet her.


	3. Settling

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Chapter 2, who-hoo! I've been bugging myself to update, but then BOOM that dreaded, evil writer's block. I'm trying to also balance a real ficiton story, which may or may not appear on . Anywhoo, enjoy the chapter with a big fat banana sundae, curtosy of mua.

**I own nothing(dammit!). **

Christelle's eyes lightened for a moment, recognizing me. Relief calmed my nerves as I walked towards her; she didn't appear angry. But then again, she didn't appear to be all that happy. If anything, she looked extremely passive, content, as if all of her sarcastic vigor and independent spunk had left her, leaving her happy, but lacking that lively spark I knew her by. This saddened me, this feeling that a part of her had died. I wouldn't say I could blame her for her changes, considering the hell she went through. I wanted to coax that old Christelle out somehow, it would just take time. I just had no idea how I would proceed with such scheme; she was the one who could always come up with a plan on the spot.

The others followed behind me, emerging from behind the trees. She smiled calmly.

"Hey, Nahuel," she said with quiet enthusiasm. I smiled back as warmly as possible.

"Welcome back," I said. She smiled again, this time with a sweet, melancholy sadness. She was trying so hard to stay together. Something must have happened while she was away. I turned to Edward for answers. He looked at me with his lips pressed together. He spoke, so fast and quiet that Christelle couldn't have possibly heard us.

_I don't know, she keeps thinking, "Lalalalalalala" over and over again; she's definitely hiding something._

Everyone else heard that too, but pretended as if they didn't notice anything. They were all just as welcoming, their arms stretched out.

"Group hug," Alice chimed. Edward chuckled at Alice's childlike nature, but nevertheless joined in with everyone. It was an odd combination; the marble, icy features of my vampire family, with the marble, warm features of Renesmee and Jacob, and the impossibly delicate and soft warmth of Christelle all combined into a circus of different feelings along my arm. She gladly accepted our hugs. We remained there for several seconds. She looked as if she was absorbing the whole feeling, like she never wanted to let go, like a child would with a blanket. But suddenly, her arms tensed just a fraction of an amount.

"Ok, people, we can't stand here all day. I've got some unpacking to do," she said in that old voice, that voice filled with humor and sarcasm, only it was muted somehow, like it was only a façade, a poor attempt to convince us that everything was all right. But I played along, not wanting to point anything out.

"Now there's the Christelle we know," I said. "Wait, unpacking? How long are you planning to stay?"

"Well, for a while, I guess. I wanted to visit you guys. And don't worry, I brought a ton of stuff so I won't need to borrow anything," she said quickly. "Oh, and I brought gifts."

"Gifts?" Rosalie said with rising enthusiasm.

"Oh, you really didn't have to," Bella interjected. She seemed a little embarrassed by Christelle's generosity.

"No, really, I insist," Christelle replied. "Now, help me unpack all my things, and I'll show you what they are." She dashed back into the ship and emerged with a large bag of luggage. She looked at us, waiting for us to come along with her. We weren't sure what to think. She seemed far too…composed. In a way, her whole behavior seemed odd. I was waiting for her to fall apart, but she didn't; Christelle had a enormous guard against her feelings, something I saw when I gathered my first glance at her.

"Well, are you coming? Sorry, I didn't realize vampires were lazy," she said in that voice that was both humorous and yet somehow reserved. We gave a quick glimpse at each other and walked into the ship with her. It was filled floor to ceiling with bags in the far corner, stacked orderly and symmetrically. There were also several other packages underneath her bed, under the control panel, and sticking out from the cabinets in the tiny kitchen. Why could she possibly need this much stuff if she was only visiting? My mind, with unhealthy curiosity, was dying to uncover this whole situation. But no, I couldn't impose. I just couldn't. And what if I made a mistake in asking her, and said something that would tick her off? Oh, get a grip, I thought. Just say something. One, two, three...

"Um, Christelle?" I coughed. She hummed a recognizing response. Ugh, this was so awkward; just how do you ask a guest how long they would be staying? Not that you want to kick them out, of course, but you certainly don't always want them to over-extend their stay. "How long did you say you were planning to stay again?" I half mumbled, forgetting to sound composed. I could feel the tension in her fingers when I asked that question. Her voice, however, was calm.

"Well, as if all the crap I brought with me wasn't an indication, a while."

"Yeah, but exactly how long?" Bella asked. She tensed again, but then suddenly relaxed, and sighed quietly.

"Well, indefinitely, I suppose," she mumbled. "I guess forever." That comment effectively silenced all conversation. She blushed, realizing the meaning of her words. Forever means something very different for humans than for vampires. For you, forever is a hopeful promise that often ends in a much shorter time than you may expect; couples, promising to forever wear their bands of gold, divorce; friendships, which should stand time, fade as one moves away or betrays the other; people die. Forever is, as you've probably guessed, quite literal for my kind. Everything about us is endless: our memory, our lifetime, and our relationships. When we say forever, we mean it much more so than humankind.

"So," Carlisle said, breaking the thick awkwardness icing over the inside of the ship. "We'll have to set up accommodations for you then," he said. Alice seized the opportunity to be _el numero uno_ host.

"Yeah, I'll set up a bedroom for you as soon as we get home. I might need to sew some new bed sheets though…oh, and we have to set up a vanity and a closet and a bathroom…"

"Alice, don't explode on me," Christelle said, chuckling. "Just chill-ax ok?"

"Chill-ax?" Emmett asked with a light chuckle. "Is that some weird Station lingo or something?"

"Yeah, it's chill and relax combined." Everyone, including me, looked a little incredulous at the random phrase. "Whatever," she simply stated, and then promptly went back to picking up more luggages. We looked at each other, not sure of what to say.

When she appeared to have just enough to carry, only three bags, she marched out of the ship. We followed her, carrying six bags each, except for Emmett, who was holding ten. Showoff. His arms were big enough that they could carry the load quite easily. My arms could hold more, definitely, but balancing back for a few hundred yards isn't easy, even for me. I caught up to her, while the others followed behind.

It. was the early afternoon, the open air only beginning to absorb what little heat it could. It didn't bother me, but I worried for Christelle. She was only in a thin jacket and pants. Still, she looked perfectly content, as if the bitter wind didn't bother her pale, delicate skin. She looked around at the world with a wonderful curiosity, but also a sad realization. I could see why; she had come when the earth was thriving, but now the changing seasons had squandered all that remained of the Home of her memory. She looked so sad because of it.

"All you alright?" I asked, not sure exactly how to speak to her.

"It's just, everything's so…barren," she said. "Is this normal?"

"Well, it's almost winter-time. In the late fall, everything looks barren. Wait a while, it should snow soon." Ugh, I was talking to her about the weather, so boring and unoriginal. She didn't seem bothered by my cliché though; rather, she seemed fascinated, having never really experienced winter before. I remember how fascinated she was with nature when she first came, and how mesmerized she was with the rain, feeling it as it plopped on her upturned face. I'd never seen anyone enjoy the rain that much. There was so much that was so ordinary to me that she had never experienced before, and I was sure that she could say the same about me. My curiosity of her life back at home spiked. But I couldn't ask about it, there and not then. Perhaps later; it would be simply too blunt. I would wait for a better time.

_Edward, don't worry about her. I'll talk to her later._

He nodded in understanding, though I didn't speak a word. The others caught his movement, and even though they didn't know my exact words, they understood me perfectly.

* * *

"Ok everyone, it's time I bring out your gifts!" Christelle said. Her words only feigned the true excitement in her voice. We had successfully finished moving her in the house after twenty minutes or so. Already, her scent had diffused and saturated the house in the most wonderful perfume imaginable. When she first came, it was quite overbearing, and I had a hard time staying in the same room with her for a while. It was bothersome now, but still fresh on my mind compared to the last hundred and fifty odd years without it, so it wasn't nearly as bad. Alice and Rosalie looked the most excited, while everyone except Bella looked pleasantly grateful. Bella, as usual, looked embarrassed by the gifts.

"Oh, don't act so humble, Bella," Edward said to her in that voice he always used with her. It was just how Emmett sometimes talked to Rosalie, how Jacob often spoke when talking to Renesmee, how Carlisle and Alice used to speak with Esme and Jasper. I mentally sighed.

"Seriously," Christelle said. "I traveled 100 million odd miles to bring this to you and all you can do is act like you're not worthy? Please, you know you're excited," she said. Bella gave that half smirk she often used. "Too bad, you're all getting them anyway. Now, most of them can be used by everyone, but some are used for specific people. If I didn't get one for just you, it wasn't because I'm a bitch, I was just in a hurry, and kind of grabbed random things that I thought might be useful." She reached into an enormous bag, easily the largest we brought in, twice as big as Christelle was. Emmett carried it in separately by specific orders from her, saying there was fragile equipment in there. I had no idea what she could possibly mean.

"Well, to start off, for Rosalie, Alice, Bella, and Renesmee, I brought all these new beauty stuff. Mirrors, brushes, clips, headbands, etc. I didn't know what all of you liked, so I brought a little of everything. She dug out four shiny metallic hairbrushes, a million sparkled clips in varying sizes, and ten headbands of different patterns and colors. I didn't really care, but it always amazed me how girls could go so insane over free hair stuff. Rosalie especially gushed over the new things; since she had been deprived of all of them for decades after most of them fell apart. They spent only a few seconds picking out their favorites, with movements too fast to be discernable by Christelle. She looked bewildered by the speed which they observed and applied their gifts.

"For all the guys, and I'm sorry this is so pathetically generic, but I brought new sports equipment. Baseballs, footballs, pin pong, a whole bunch of stuff. Dig in," she concluded. She dumped out various sports balls, rackets; all kinds of things. Carlisle, Edward, Emmett and I sifted through all of it quickly. We were especially excited about the three new baseballs.

"Ok, now I brought a _ton_ of new clothes for everyone. I sort of guessed sizes." She reached in and dumped out what was probably the most filling part of the luggage. Piece after piece of clothing of all colors and fabrics, some I hadn't seen in decades. Alice made cotton, _lots _of it, so we had denim and such, but not much else. Alice especially was guzzling over the silk. I found some simple things, but very colorful ones. The only decent colors we could make at home were indigo and red. I avoided those, picking out random greens and blues and blacks. When that was finished, I thought it should have been over, but no; that bag was still pretty full.

"Carlisle," she said. His head perked up, not in excitement, just recognition. Carlisle never got "excited" anymore. "I've been told you have a lab that you work in a lot, correct?" He nodded his head twice, and didn't say another word about it. Trying to talk to Carlisle about his lab was like asking a US President where Area 51 was. It was like a diary to him, something only he could see, and we respected that. "Good, because I brought all these new vials and test tubes she said. She brought out various chemists' equipment. He smiled softly while reaching out to receive them from her.

"Thank you, Christelle. That's very generous of you," he said, and that was all. She looked as if she was expecting him to say more, but when he didn't she looked closer into his eyes, trying to read him. She almost looked like Edward, and I wondered if she really could read minds. Once she saw that he wouldn't crack, her face softened to a look of compassionate sadness. All of this lasted no more than a second before she snapped out of it and brought back her honey smile again.

"Alice, I know you make everyone's clothing, so I brought you a portable sewing machine," she reached into her bag and brought out a white plastic contraption about the size of Jacob's hand. It was flat and folded over in one half. She also pulled out a few colorful trays, which I realized were beds of thread wrapped around a flat, center disk. She inserted a black threaded disk into the white machine and held a piece of her shirt under it. Pressing a button, it instantly sewed a perfect stitch, even faster and better than Alice, and that's saying something. Alice look delighted.

"Thanks so much," she exclaimed, hugging a slightly taken aback Christelle. I chuckled to myself.

"Anyway, moving on," she said. "Bella, I know you're all into reading, and I know all of the books in your library are all weathered, so I brought something called a Bibos; it scans any book you have and stores it in here. You can also get a bunch of other ones on here too, so you won't have to worry about these old books here." She held out a thin, flat screen, black all around except for the patent white trimming. Bella smiled and accepted the gift kindly, but she mumbled too quietly and too quickly for Christelle to hear.

"I like my battered books." Edward smirked at her.

"Edward, this next thing is just as much for you as it is for me. Since you and I both are pianists, I brought new strings, because that instrument in your living room is quite atrocious sounding." He chuckled.

"Thanks so much. I'll help you change them." She looked around at everyone and looked a little shy all of a sudden.

"Sorry, that's it. I didn't know what to get the rest of you guys," she said, looking specifically at Renesmee, Jacob and I. Of course she didn't. Was she holding a little resentment against us still? My appreciation for her and the joy of her return was immediately filled with suspicion. Was she really so slow at forgiving? Perhaps I was reading between the lines too deeply. "So, that's all folks."

By now, it was early afternoon, around three o'clock by my estimates. Rosalie and Alice immediately went off to try out their new beauty supplies, examining them more carefully. Edward and Christelle began pulling off the old piano strings quite easily, even for her; they were so rusted and worn down. Bella was busy scanning all of her novels as fast as possible, amazed by the technology, amused by its utter simplicity. Carlisle, as usual, was in his lab, no doubt testing out the new equipment.

"Hey, Nahuel," Emmett's voice boomed from outside. I ran to the front door. He and Jacob and Renesmee were standing outside holding the baseball bats and a new ball. "What do you say? Let's give it a swing for old time's sake," he suggested. It was certainly tempting. But there was something far more important I needed to tackle.

"I'll come in a bit. There's something I need to finish off."

"Suit yourself. We'll be out by the meadow," he called. If I had blinked, which I didn't need to, I would have missed them dash away. As much as I loved baseball, I still needed to talk to her. We had barely spoken since I saw her, and there was such an obvious wall between us. I needed to know how she was, what she was thinking. As much as I loved baseball, breaking down Christelle's emotional barrier was going to take a while.

* * *


	4. Advice

**Hey, everyone! Sorry for my inexcusable absense from Fanfiction (Ok, I had a musical to do, give me a break), but I'm happy to say I'm back online. Nahuel is proving to be a difficult character to write; he's introverted, and a little vulnerable, but he can stand up for himself with surprising strength. How do you translate that into dialogue? If you've got advice, please share. In the meantime, enjoy readying with the Goodie of the Day: vanilla flan (the good kind).**

* * *

I leaned against the door outside her room, listening. She had finished unpacking, and appeared to no longer be making much movement, or uttering a sound. I could hear her steady breath, and the background beat of her calm but melancholy heart. Now would be the best time for me to approach her, to talk to her.

But what should happen should I walk through that door? What if I look at her face, and immediately know that this conversation won't end well? Should I just leave? No, I was psyching myself out. It was just Christelle, I could talk to her; I could make conversation. Ugh, I was so helpless in these situations. My hand stroked my hair just once, as I took in a heavy breath. I could do this, I told myself. It's just her, it's just her. Here goes nothing.

I quietly opened the door just enough for my head to poke through. She was standing by the window, gazing out at the surrounding barren countryside. Her head turned towards the door so fast that it surprised even me.

"Yes, Nahuel?" she asked calmly, though I could tell that she appeared a little flustered.

"Um, can I talk to you for a bit?" I asked shyly. Instantly gazing upon her face, the ending to this conversation flashed in my head. There were tears, angry voices, tension. This plan was already falling apart, but I had to keep myself together. Thankfully, she didn't laugh or crack a joke; if she did, I was sure I wouldn't be able to handle this. But she only politely gestured for me to enter. Keeping a smile on my face, I opened the door to reveal the rest of myself. She looked curious; no doubt I was giving off some odd body language. She moved to the bed and sat on the edge. Should I sit on the bed too, or should I stand? No, that would be too awkward, but I felt uncomfortable just plopping beside her like that. My eyed caught the large beam that ran along the side of the wall. I walked over there to lean against it. There: casual, comfortable, and non-threatening. It would work.

"So, what's up?" she asked in no particular tone of voice. I opened my mouth to speak, but then horror grasped me; I realized that I entered the room without coming up with anything to say. Dammit.

"I just…wanted to see how you're settling in. Is everything ok?" I sighed internally; that was a lucky save on my part.

"I'm ok. I've just been up here, thinking I suppose," she stated matter-of-factly. Good, something to build on.

"Thinking about what?" I asked. Perhaps this will lead to somewhere. She took her gaze off of me briefly, and looked down at her twiddling thumbs. I bit her lip.

"It's just…coming back is a lot to soak in. Lots of things happened here, you know," she said more softly than before. Suddenly, she snapped out of this pensive mode of hers. "But it's nothing. It probably doesn't do me much good moping around her in my little emo corner." I chuckled. At least she kept her light-heartedness. But I didn't want her to brush aside and give up the conversation. As intimidated and anxious as I felt, I needed to keep the talk going in this direction. I wanted to know how she truly felt. Another flash of future popped in my head; her mental barrier would put up a solid fight.

"But, you know, sometimes it helps to talk about those things," I said, choosing my words as precisely as I could, though they still didn't feel right. Her face became marred with a frown.

"Yeah, but I'm over it. I'd rather just leave it behind me," she said quickly, hoping to end this conversation. The back of my mind yelled at me to drop this and go with her, but my mouth had other plans.

"No, Christelle. I can see how hard all this is for you. Please, it would give me peace of mind to know what you're thinking."

"Why don't you just ask Edward?" she retorted with an edge in her voice. "I'm sure he'd be happy to blurt out my mind's ramblings."

"I tried, but your 'lalala's' kept him too irritated to try to read you." She laughed, but I could see in her eyes that she knew she was caught. It would be impossible to avoid the fact that she was hiding something in her heart.

"Mission accomplished on my part," she chuckled unenthusiastically. Her lips tightened, as if guarding words from pouring out. She promptly got up from the bed and returned to look out the window, her back facing me. I could see what she was trying to do; she didn't want me to look at her face. There was a brief moment of silence between us. What should I say next? Should I wait for her to speak? Come on, Nahuel, be a man! I thought. Just say something, anything.

"Christelle, I may not know you well, but I can sense when someone is hiding something, especially you. Your face is quite easy to read." I thought I could hear her murmur, "That's why I'm turned away." The muscles in her hand tightened into fists, but the rest of her body remained composed.

"If you wanted to interrogate me, Nahuel, you should have said so in the first place," she stated harshly. I felt taken aback by her remark. Even though I knew she had a tendency to not have a filter between her head and her mouth, her rude tone still offended me.

"Christelle, I…I'm not trying to interrogate you, I just want to make sure you're alright."

"Well, you're doing a mighty fine job at that," she snapped.

"Why are you so cruel?" I said, suddenly finding myself raise my voice. It frightened me briefly; I almost never yelled at anyone, much less a woman. So why was I suddenly throwing that principle away around her? "Is it so awful for me to be concerned with you? I can see what you're doing; you're only covering up the fact that this place tortures you; you can't even bear to look at me because you still hold a grudge against me and my family!" Where was this coming from? I wanted to slap myself for being so atrocious to her. This wasn't going to help at all. Her face pinched angrily.

"Ok, Nahuel, you want the truth? Really? My life sucks right now, more than you can know. Everything around me is falling apart, and you can't even give me one moment of peace!"

"Well, no one asked you to come here!"

"Actually, they couldn't wait to get rid of me!" she shouted, a hysteric laughter tying into her words. "They were _grateful_ that I left, Nahuel! So really, thanks again for greeting me so warmly after I've been rejected by everyone I know!" Her fist pounded against the wall with surprising force for a human. She grunted and clutched her fist, cursing in pain at it. "Dammit!"

I was stunned in silence by her words. How could anyone be _grateful _that she left? What wasn't she telling me? She placed her arm against the wall and leaned her head on it, hiding her face from me once more.

"Get out," she whispered.

"But, Christelle-"

"I said out!" she yelled. I didn't have anything I could possibly say to her without angering her more. As much as it hurt me to, I had to leave. My legs felt heavy as I walked out the door, but I did my best to not make a sound. I closed the door behind me, leaving Christelle to herself.

So, exile, huh? But why would she be? Did she commit a felony? No, if that happened, she would just end up in jail, or whatever it is they did at the Station. Besides, if it was any ordinary incident, she wouldn't return here, a place with so many haunting memories for her. Something grave must have happened. She said that she was rejected by everyone she knew, but what could that mean? Whatever was bothering her, I knew that she must have very specific reason for choosing to return Home. Coming here meant she wanted our company, but she didn't want us to bother her at all. Was she just here for protection? I thought that perhaps I should wait, and let her come to me when she was ready for it.

But the thing was, I didn't want to wait around for her. I _wanted _to help her now. Whenever I saw her, I could only think about my visions, repeating over and over how important Christelle was and will be to me; I couldn't just let her pass me by. I needed to know _how_ she and I would become so close, and how could that happen if I left her alone to her solitude? My head hurt from my indecisions. But a temporary solution came quickly. It could wait until I had some sleep, but tomorrow, I would definitely carry out the plan.

* * *

I awoke earlier than usual, even earlier than Renesmee, who never slept in past seven in the morning. I checked to make sure that Christelle was still sleeping before I got ready. I grabbed my clothes for the day, making sure they hadn't touched yesterday's attire. When I got downstairs, I could see everyone else was gone, out satisfying their thirsts while Christelle was still around. Going out to the river next to the property, I seized the opportunity to wash Christelle's human smell off of me; it wouldn't be very intelligent to go to Paris smelling like food for the taking. The river, though I'm sure would be freezing cold to any human, felt pleasantly comfortable to me, the ice forming on the banks making no difference to me. After scrubbing my skin like nothing else, I dressed in my fresh cotton t-shirt and pants. I took a thorough sniff test of myself: No human trace; excellent.

Without wasting any extra time, I raced to Paris. I knew no one would question anything if I was gone; I was often out carving or sculpting in the morning anyway. Running during daybreak always felt wonderful, no matter how many times I had done it before. The air whipping but not hurting my face, the smell of the passing earth, it never ceased to entertain me, and before I knew it, I was at the gates of the city.

I had never seen Paris before the Great Disaster, although I've been told that it was quite impressive, with beautiful buildings and architecture and people everywhere. Looking at it now, one would have never dreamed of such a reality. This Paris was only a shadow of its former glory with only eight hundred and two residents (my family and a few other covens decided to reside outside the city gates). For the most part, the streets of the immense city were abandoned. No one resided or spent any time in the outer rims of the city; everything and everyone was concentrated in the heart of the city. That area had been tidied up, polished, and was still shining bright after repairs. But the rest of the city remained desolate, almost in ruins after the Great Disaster and one hundred fifty years of neglect. In these outer rims, nature had mostly overgrown the buildings.

The morning sun was low in the sky, and the thin mist that hung low to the ground gave all the plants around me a dewy glow, a bright light in this otherwise desolate row. Even though it was eerie, I enjoyed this area of the city. It was quite, incorruptible, a place I often went to think. As you can probably imagine, I'm not the biggest social butterfly, and it is places like this that give me most comfort. But I couldn't rest now, I needed to keep going. I ran onward, hoping that the man I wanted to visit didn't have a party last night. If so, I wouldn't be able to talk to him until noon.

When I stopped running, the house lay before me. It was grand in scale and design, obviously old but repaired with touches that screamed bachelor. It was paneled with dark wood and trimmed with sleek windows made out of glass from the Atlantic sand. Listening in, I could tell that there wasn't any sort of festivity going on, but some sort of jazz music was playing on an old stereo. Good, he would be available. I didn't bother knocking; Arden wouldn't mind. Entering the house at normal speed (and by normal, I don't mean human), I almost laughed at what I saw. There was Arden, in his favorite gray suit, smoking a home-made cigar and singing along to the ancient song. My best friend was quite a character, very different from me, and yet we somehow got along perfectly. He was a partier, a ladies man, and a bit…vain. But for whatever reason, no woman wanted a commitment with him. He was one of the few vampires that didn't have a mate; he never told me if he ever did.

Arden wasn't surprised when I came into the room, and as usual was in good spirits. At first sight of him, I knew I would leave this house with an answer, but I would still be unsure of myself. Great.

"Nahuel, what's up, my man?" he asked, giving me the "man-shake" as he called it, which he insisted on doing every time he greeted me. I was just fine with a hello and a hi-five, but Arden was what you would call "over-theatrical".

"Say, you look good. Cigar?" he offered.

"Sure," said, and kindly accepted it. It wasn't the biggest fan of cigars, but it was Arden's sort of thing, so I went along with it. It wasn't like it would kill me anyway.

"Sorry if this one sucks. There are not many leaves to go around in winter, you know. Oh, but I added some of that wood that someone gave me, so it should at least smell good, even if it tastes like crap," he said, and took a deep inhale. He tossed me his silver lighter, and I inhaled his own home-made creation. He was right, it was awful to taste, but it smelled great, which compensated. I decided I would inhale sparingly.

"So what are you all dressed up for, and what's with the jazz?" I asked. "Do you have a date or something?"

"As a matter of fact, I do; Emiliana should be here in about ten minutes, so I'll have to ask you to leave before she comes. But you can stay until then." Emiliana again? I couldn't ever see how he could date the same people over and over again. Arden had this group of singles who for some inexplicable reason all dated each other from time to time. He must have dated Emiliana seventeen times in fifty years.

"I don't see why you're so afraid to settle with just one person for a while," I said. He deeply inhaled his cigar.

"Because life gets boring if you don't shake things up," he said while smoke spewed out of his mouth. He always had a very subtle look in his eyes whenever he talked about his dating life. He himself always claimed that he lacked nothing and that he was just fine with his perpetual bachelor existence, though I always thought that a part of him longed to get out of that rut. If there was, he never mentioned it.

"So anyway, what's up with you? You're never up this early in the morning. Is something troubling that big head of yours?" Yes.

"Well sort of," I said. And then I realized; once again, in my own stupidity, I didn't come up with anything to say. Should I tell him that Christelle is human? No, that would be dangerous, and I knew that he couldn't keep a secret unless it was important to his own being. Should I imply it? No, that would be stupid. I settled for avoiding the whole truth. "There's an outsider who came to my house." His eyes widened, and he sat forward, suddenly very interested. He lived for new happenings, which were quite uncommon in this never-ending existence.

"Really? What's his name?"

"Her name's Christelle," I said a little shyly. A huge grin streamed his face, that face he gave whenever I mentioned a woman of any sort.

"Oh, I think I can see where this is going," he said slyly. "Did you hit it off yet?" He wriggled his eyebrows like a vaudeville villain.

"It's not what you think, Arden," I said sheepishly. I felt my cheeks blush, which made me even more embarrassed. I hated it when he would put me on the spot like this. "And no, we didn't 'hit it off'. She's a little too preoccupied to do that."

"Uh-oh, she's angsty, isn't she? You know, Nahuel, it isn't a good idea to further irritate an already pissed off girl." He smiled wider as his satisfaction with the story grew

"She isn't pissed or anything, she's grieving." The smile wiped off his face.

"Damn, I was hoping this would go somewhere else." I smirked at him, annoyed. No matter how much he bothered me, he really knew how to listen, how to help.

"Here's the deal," I said, leaning forward on the sofa opposite of him. "She's left her clan somewhere in…Africa."

"You're dating a black chick? Man, not that many vampires live in Africa anymore-"

"No, Arden. Look, can't you give me a word in edgewise?" He gave a "whatever" sort of a look, but let me continue anyway. "It turns out that circumstances beyond her control forced her to kill her brother recently. Her coven banished her, so she's been wandering around here for quite some time. She came to our house seeking refuge. But even though she's staying with us, she doesn't want to talk about what happened to her, or talk about anything really. She wants to be alone to spend time with her grief, but that's the last thing I want her to do."

"Ok, dude, if she wants to be alone, I don't understand why you're bothering with her. Unless…" he looked at my face. I couldn't see my reflection, but I'm guessing something in my expression gave something away.

"Wait a minute; what was your first impression of her? I mean, how did you see her future relate to yours?" Now he was curious, and his tone of voice became more serious. My answer was unavoidable.

"Arden, I've never seen anyone who will be as important to my future as her. She's destined to be the most significant, most wonderful person in the world. I don't know how to explain it; my visions show that we'll be like one soul. But how can that ever happen if she doesn't want me to ever speak to her?" It's always nerve-wracking for me to be so open, but Arden always seems to coax anything out of me. I took a deep inhale of my cigar. Ugh, it tasted awful, but the wonderful wood in it smelt heavenly; sandalwood, I think. He too inhaled the cigar.

"Wow, you've got some issues, man," he stated simply. He sighed, trying to come up with something to add on. "Hmmm…he's what I think. I think it's best that you do as she says for a while. But the second she decides to spend some time with you and your family, seize that opportunity. Use it to show her that she needs someone, particularly you, around. But don't say that directly, or it will drive her away. Do you understand what I mean? Don't worry about taking it slow, it's not like you're in a hurry to get together or anything." Easy for you to think. Our time together is so limited, and in her fragile nature, who'd know how long she'd be alive. It was only a matter of time before she was discovered again. I prevented myself from shivering, thinking about what happened to us the first time.

"Does that seem ok for you? It's not too much to handle for you delicate self, is it?" he said lightly. I smirked.

"I may not be full-blooded, but I'm not weak."

"Hey, I wasn't trying to be racist or anything. Relax, alright?" I wasn't quite sure what to think of what he said. I would try to be patient and wait for her, but I didn't know how long I could last. I didn't want to sit around and let her grieve alone; I wanted to help her, to comfort her, to let her know that she wasn't to blame. Doing as Arden said would be really difficult for me.

"Alright. How about this: I'll take your advice. If she doesn't talk to me in a month and a half, I'm ditching your plan." He inhaled his cigar again.

"Fair enough," he said. He looked down up at the ancient grandfather clock on his wall. "Oh crap, Emiliana is practically here. Sorry dude, but you have to go," he said, suddenly frantic.

"Ok, ok, I'll go, take it easy." I rose, and put out the cigar in the dish beside the sofa. "Have fun. Where are you guys going?"

"I don't know. I'm doing whatever she's got planned. Hope it isn't hunting; I don't want to ruin my good suit."

"I have faith in your impeccable, OCD status cleanliness, Arden." He chuckled, but his face went into panic again.

"Hurry, go! I don't want her to arrive when I have someone else here; she may think I forgot her."

"Ok, I'm out. Bye," I said. I took off running out of the house as fast as I could. I didn't see Emiliana, but I didn't care to wait. I'd only met her a couple of times, and I must say, she doesn't have nearly enough class to date Arden. So I set off for home once more. If I was lucky, Christelle wasn't up yet. I thought about doing something nice for her; maybe I could cook her breakfast. I ran back, thinking of the food possibilities, but remembered my sorry inability to cook.


	5. Scent

**Hello, everyone! I know this is a somber day today, so I promised myself I wouldn't sound too bubbly in this intro. Just wanted to give you guys some peanut toffee to enjoy this chapter with. And happy almost Easter.**How I wished Bella was here to assist me; at least she knew what she was doing. I tried to boil vegetables to make stew, but it ended up overflowing and bubbling onto the floor. I scrambled to clean it up, but I could suddenly smell the veggies were beginning to overcook. Looking into the pot, but vision confirmed this. I removed the pot from the stove in a desperate attempt to save the already botched breakfast, but it wasn't of any use. My nose could detect that it was already ruined. I groaned; what was I going to give them now? Those were the last of the vegetables we had; there wouldn't be any more until spring, and winter was already fast approaching. I hated to settle, but I simply arranged what cheese we had left over, some smoked meat and dried fruit in an orderly fashion upon four separate plates.

* * *

Just in time to miss the catastrophe, Renesmee and Jacob arrived downstairs. They both giggled as they could smell the faint traces of the ruined breakfast.

"Wait, Nahuel, _you _tried to cook?" Jacob said, almost laughing as if the idea was unthinkable. I knew that he was going to make this comment repeatedly throughout the day, leaving me irritated with him by nightfall. Renesmee would try to back me up, but she would be just as in with the banter. She smiled but lightly slapped Jacob's shoulder.

"Be nice. At least he tried. I don't ever see you making breakfast you smart ass," she said jokingly.

"Hey! I'm an excellent cook," he retorted. He puffed his chest to look high and mighty, making both Renesmee and I laugh.

We all stopped quite suddenly when the sound of footsteps came from upstairs. They were heavy yet careful, each step rhythmic and dragging, gradually advancing towards the staircase. In an unexpected wave, her smell hit my nose. It still took some getting used to, after being deprived of the sweet fragrance of human for so many years. The great passage of time couldn't make the scent any less beautiful or pleasant. The cold draft that blew through the house carried it to all corners of the first floor.

This could be a problem. By now, the entire house was drenched in the perfume, every surface coated with it. Should another one of our kind arrive without acknowledgement first, he would pick up her scent from a mile away, and we could be detained once more.

When at last her physical body could be seen, the visions of the day with her flashed in my head. There would be no arguments today, but there wouldn't be any advancement of friendship either. As hard as I tried to picture today's future with her, I just couldn't see her face that often. She would spend much of today by herself. The days after this once weren't as clear, and I couldn't properly estimate how long her pattern of personal solitude would persist. Still, I was already on rocky ground with her; to shadow over her trying to gain her attention would be both obsessive and unhelpful; if I did that, she may never let me near. She would ask for a quiet place of peace today from all of us, and I would have to grant it to her.

Renesmee was the first to greet her.

"Good morning, Christelle," she said sweetly. "We've got breakfast for you." Christelle, still obviously drowsy, rubbed her hand on her face.

"Oh, thanks, that great," she mumbled, not meaning to be rude, but just tired. "What is it?"

"Some cheese, meat, and dried fruit," Jacob added. "I know it's probably not as fancy as what you're used to, but at this time of the year, there's not much to go around, you know?" Christelle nodded her head in agreement, still not totally aware. She looked so funny with her hair all messed up; I had to bite my lip to keep myself from laughing.

A quick glance by her assessed the room. She eyed the food, and though looked grateful for it, I could tell she was used to much better cuisine. A pang of doubt kicked my stomach; I could have tried so much harder to make a meal she deserved. If I was trying to regain her trust, it sure wasn't going to be with dried fruit.

Her glance traced to me, and she eyed me with a most curious expression. There was no animosity, no hatred, but no acceptance either. Her eyes, though still large and midnight blue, now held a deep heaviness, as if all the evils of the world had been laid out before her. Still, she managed to also retain some independence, a look that stated that she didn't need anyone. It was a look that, however brief, struck me hard. I was so thrown off by that expression in her eyes, that I felt as if, in that period of brevity, there was so much I completely missed. But her eyes were no longer on me, and I wasn't granted another look into them as she sat down in the wooden chair to eat her breakfast.

"I'm going to head out to the woods today. I won't go far, but I'd like it if I could have some alone time," Christelle stated in a matter of fact tone of voice. There was a sharp drop in my gut; after everything that had happened, the last thing I wanted her to do was be in the woods alone, where she was so susceptible to danger, to death, and such an easy target. But no; I promised myself that I would give her some time to think, alone. Still, I couldn't just let her walk away without the reassurance that she would be safe. Her future was too important to be lost so suddenly.

"Christelle," I blurted out. Ugh, I wanted to slap myself. Why was it I couldn't keep my mouth shut around her? I was usually so much more careful with my words than this, but she held some power over me that made me throw caution to the wind. As much as I was used to keeping to myself, I felt certain I could never hide anything from her, like I wouldn't have a choice.

Her head perked in recognizing my voice, but her eyes and face never left her plate. She didn't verbally respond.

"I don't think it's safe for you to be in the woods…alone." I looked to Rensemee and Jacob, hoping that one of them might back me up. They understood my expression immediately.

"Yeah," Jacob intervened. "There's really no undergrowth cover left to hide, and it's easier to smell with the cold air. If you go out there alone, you'll be a sitting duck." She sighed in an almost irritated fashion.

"So I heard. Listen, I can take care of myself just fine."

"No offense, Christelle, but the odds of you surviving another encounter-" she paused, aware that she was bringing back memories of Neil's final night of being. Christelle reacted to her words so minutely, yet it was impossible to miss. Renesmee took a breath to rethink her word choice.

"Look, we just don't want you to get hurt. We'll let you have time for yourself, but will you let us at least keep an eye on you to make sure you'll be safe?" I gave her a quick nod, and mouthed the words thank you. She smiled in recognition. Christelle never looked up from her plate, but began to pick at a piece of cheese with her long, pale fingers.

"Fine," she said curtly. She pushed herself out of her chair. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to change." She started walking back towards the stairwell, but then stopped briefly. "Wait, there's no shower here, is there?"

"Sorry, there's only the river. But by this time of the year, I think it's safe to say that it's uncomfortably cold for a human," Jacob said, trying to keep the mood light.

"Damn. Oh well." Her face lighted with an idea. "Maybe we can take out the shower in my ship. Speaking of which, we'll need to dismantle the ship at some point." The comment took all three of us by surprise, especially since her tone sounded so nonchalant. It was funny; Christelle tended to make a big fuss over such little things, but was much calmer about the important things.

"Why?" Rensemee asked, a little flustered.

"Well, I figured I'm not going anywhere anytime soon. Plus, a ship like mine lying around would tell anyone that a human is close by. If someone traces me back to here…I don't want to be whisked away again." That day, when Edward and Emmett stole her away to safety, flashed in my mind. I shuddered at the thought of what had happened in the following days. It was those days that really and truly made me realize how deeply one can hate another. Those days, however brief, were some of the darkest in decades, one of those periods in time that leave a permanent mark in your skull, one that you can't help but reminisce when it's brought up in conversation…

"You need to leave _now_," Edward said sternly. I hurried to grab anything that would be necessary for her survival: food, water, anything. I saw her photon gun and quickly packed that as well, thinking it would be of great use to her later on. Even though I was racing throughout the house, I could still distinguish her surprise, how completely thrown off she was by Edward's voice. My eyes caught a glimpse of her face for the briefest of seconds; she looked terrified.

"But I-"

"There's no time for discussions. Another vampire found your ship, and they'll trace you back here at any moment. We need to get you as far away from here as possible," he said urgently. Everyone continued to throw any possibly needed materials into our largest leather bag. Everyone paused, assessing the bag; with quick nods, we agreed that we had everything we could need. Emmett clasped the bag closed, then lifted it with his massive arms as if he were holding a child.

"Wait-"

"No time. Hold on." Before Christelle could utter another word, Edward swept her onto his back faster than she could blink. In the same seemingly instantaneous period of time, both he and Emmett dashed out of the door, disappearing with her into a night as thick and black and onyx colored velvet. Carlisle ran out of the room and promptly reappeared with our cleaning supplies. With hurried anxiety, he coarsely tossed us everything he was carrying.

"Everyone, scrub the house top to bottom; throw away anything left that belongs to her, including the bed sheets. We can't let any trace of her scent remain here."

"What about outside? Her scent must be all over our lawn," Rosalie stated in her sternest voice.

"We just had rain, and she hasn't been outside since we returned," Carlisle said so quickly that I almost couldn't keep up. "There won't be any trace of her outside of the house." He raced around, taking great breaths through his nose to detect where her scent still remained in the house. Without hesitation, each of us began to decontaminate the house with her beautiful fragrance. It would be such a shame to scrub it away, but what choice did we have?

"Nahuel," Bella said hurriedly, "burn any of the candles we have, and any incense you can find." I nodded quickly, and then promptly sought out all of our sticks of sandalwood. Moving my hands so frantically helped me calm down, but it couldn't cover up the horrifying truth; we've been caught. If I was ever afraid before, it was definitely now as I waited for the worst to arrive on our doorstep. Any moment now, an agent of the empire would show up, and we were as good as dead. My stomach did several flips at the thought of what could happen to us, but I never once stopped what I was doing; there wasn't time to pause. Jacob, Renesmee, and I went upstairs to clean there, starting first in her bedroom. Her scent had blanketed the room as if she was still there, drenching every inch of it. Not knowing what better we should do, we grabbed her sheets and tossed them out of the window; where we could retrieve them later, but right now we didn't have time to worry over them. We perfumed, scrubbed, and wafted every inch of the second floor. A quick sniff test confirmed that there was only an extremely faint trace of her scent, but it could only be detected if one knew what to look for. Still, we couldn't take chances with agents.

A sharp, rapid knock sounded at the door. My body was suddenly overcome with a sharp freeze, and I felt as if I had turned to stone. Bella and Jacob didn't move either.

"By order of the empire, open this door" said a cool yet commanding voice. Upon hearing it, my body was no longer frozen; it was now visibly shaking. It was a voice I knew all too well: William, the Emperors' right hand man. If there was a worse man to visit your house other than one of the Emperors, it was him.

"Can I help you, sir?" I heard Alice say. Apart from Carlisle, she was the best actor among us; I doubted that Carlisle would have wanted to answer the door. Three men entered the house with stern footsteps.

"Someone reported to me that they found a strange ship of some kind a few miles away from here. A human has been on earth, and you're the closest house to its location." William paced evenly across the wooden floors, his footsteps echoing throughout the otherwise silent house. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

"We haven't seen any human pass through these parts," Alice said coolly. "See our eyes; we haven't broken any law."

"Good, because you know what would happen if you stumble across a human without first notifying our great Emperors'. It would be so tragic to let that happen to you for such a silly slip, now would it?" he said coldly, mockingly. A chill crept down my body. If one managed to ever cross paths with a human, he would be handed over to the Emperors', who would immediately devour him. Failure to do so would result in a punishment worse than death, never in death itself. Our numbers were far too precious for the empire to be downsized.

"You're awfully quiet, Carlisle. Would you mind telling me where the rest of your family is?" Bella glanced at the both of us. We nodded in agreement. Even though it was the last thing I desired to do, we all marched downstairs. I tried to relax my face so as not to give anything away. He heard us immediately.

"Ah, there's only three more? Where are the other two?"

"Edward and Emmett went out hunting," Bella said, cool as ice. William chuckled quietly.

"I see, out disposing of the evidence, are they?" The three of us touched the first floor and turned the corner to face the scene. Alice was standing nearest him, her body relaxed but her face intense. Close behind her was Bella, who was holding onto Alice's arm. Further behind them, keeping his distance was Carlisle. His arms were crossed, and his face bore the coldest expression I've ever seen on him, as if his eyes could rein hell upon the world. William was standing by the door, accompanied by two other agents, who were wearing their uniform of long, red cloaks and holding long, lethal flamethrowers. William himself was dressed in an all black suit that only highlighted his impossibly white skin. His eyes were harsh and cruel, his face in a permanent smile. His grin elongated when us three entered his sight.

"I can see those filthy beings still poisons your home, Carlisle." Anger flowed hot through my veins, but my legs were in danger of collapsing from fear.

"Is something frightening you, monster?" he sneered. "If you're not harboring a human, then there's no need to be afraid, is there?"

"There's no one else here but us, sir," Jacob said without the slightest hint of respect in his tone. His face too, was harsh, and he was shaking like me, but for a much different reason.

"Keep your act together, dog," William spat. Jacob's face tightened.

"Easy, Jacob," Carlisle said. His voice was steady, but tight, restrained. His face remained as cold and still as if he was a sculpture.

"That's right, Carlisle, make sure he doesn't get too rowdy. You do remember the last time your family defied my masters' will, right? I don't believe we want that repeated, do we?" Carlisle's hands tightened into fists that could crack the Earth in two. The only part of his face that changed was the narrowing of his eyes. Renesmee turned to reassure him, her face serious. Carlisle closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, but his hands still remained clenched.

"That's better," William said. "Search the house," he commanded the two agents. They searched every room, smelling any surface they could find.

"There's definitely the smell of cleaner, sir," one of the agents said in a deep voice.

"Of course there is, you doltish fool; anyone could smell it from a mile away. Keep searching." The agents continued to smell the surfaces, taking the scents into better detail than before.

"Care to explain the cleaner?" William asked with feigned politeness.

"We like a clean house, just like anyone else," Alice said. William's eyes narrowed, his permanent grin still plastered to his face.

"Don't screw with me, Alice," he said, his voice harsher than before. One of the agents returned to William's side.

"There's no trace sir." William's grunted in disapproval.

"Bring the family in for questioning," he said. Both of them pointed their flamethrowers. "If you refuse to cooperate, I'll burn the house down." We looked at each other in apprehension and fear. As much as we wanted to resist, doing so was not recommended. Bella nodded, her face angry but her voice calm.

"We'll come with you," she said. William smiled.

"Then move out," he said. His two agents moved to either side of our group, and we were escorted out of the house.

I'll spare you the details of what happened over the next two days. They are not something I wish to remember, nor anything you would desire to hear, unless you enjoy sleepless nights.

"But," Christelle added. "Even if someone finds my ship, they'll never trace my scent here," she said with a smile.

"What do you mean?" Jacob asked. With a little more enthusiasm, Christelle jumped up from her seat and walked over to one of the luggage bags packed in the corner. She rifled through a small red sack until she produced a curious looking canister. It was silver, shiny, and had two small buttons on it.

"What is that?" Renesmee asked.

"It's a scent muffler," Christelle said with a coy smile. "This top button reads whatever scent you wish to eliminate, while the bottom one releases special particles specifically designed to eliminate that scent from every space and surface in a given area. It works for anything, including humans." She pressed the top button. A small piece of the canister unfolded from its side into a horizontal bar. She placed her arm under the bar, which emitted a red light, scanning her. Once it was done, the bar retreated back into the side of the canister. The bottom button began to flash a dim green light. After about ten seconds, the light stopped flashing. She pressed the button, and the top of the canister began to distribute particles too small and too spaced apart to be seen by a human's eye. It was amazing how quickly they spread around the house, enveloping every square inch of air and surface in the house. I inhaled deeply; I couldn't smell Christelle at all.

"Freaking cool," Jacob said in amazement. Christelle smiled quietly.

"So now, we don't have anything to worry about," she said in a small voice.

"Yeah, nothing at all," I added, but the words sounded awfully stupid coming out of my mouth. She shrugged, but didn't smile at me.

"Anyway, I'm going upstairs to change if you need me. I'll be sure to be back for lunch." And with that, she walked lethargically out of the room. I heard her footsteps ascend the staircase, and then move across the second floor to her bedroom. I sighed, knowing that there was no way I would have the opportunity to really speak to her today. Sure, Renesmee would keep watch over her, but what good was that for me? Even if she was, Christelle didn't want her anywhere near her. The situation was so strange; just what was I supposed to do?

"Don't worry, Nahuel," Renesmee said. "You'll get your chance. I know you two will work things out."

"Thanks," I mumbled. I continued to pick at my cheese and fruit, not really eating it.


	6. Isolation

**What up, people?! This is both a greeting and the name of this awsome song you must look up (after reading). Enjoy with the Goodie of the Day: marshmellow fudge.**

* * *

After it became clear that the rest of my family would not return from hunting for some time, we each went separate directions. Jacob went off to the back of the house to fix a few pipes that had become rusty. True to her word, Renesmee agreed to keep watch for Christelle, but didn't interact with her at all. Even though they were at least a hundred yards away, my eyes could still see them perfectly through the kitchen window. Christelle spent several minutes with her hands in her pockets, looking up at the sky and the bare tree branches, soon proceeding to sit on a large boulder with her hands wrapping around her head. All the while, Renesmee sat on an equally large rock, holding her hands as the drooped between her legs, watching Christelle without so much as moving a single muscle. I couldn't tell if Christelle was speaking to herself or reflecting silently, and it bothered me. Yet I sighed, reminding mysef that she was probably still angry with me about last night.

With nothing else to do, I decided to retreat to my grotto to carve, more out of simple boredom than a need to sooth my distress. After all, it wasn't productive to watch anyone through a window all day. With the air, still cold and damp from the night before, I raced through the woods until I reached it. The area surrounding this little enclosure had completely lost all of its green, the grass dead and trees bare, waiting for the year's first snowfall. The spot did have its way of making any problem seem very small. It was just as I had left it, perfectly clean and orderly. In one corner of the cave, I had a pile of failed sculptures and broken tools neatly lined up, and my portfolio, so to speak, in the other; any work that I prized, I cherished and kept nice and polished, along with my favorite and best tools that I kept in a leather satchel. Next to my tools and portfolio, there were several stones of varying sizes for my work.

I looked upon the heap of rocks, looking for any particular one which caught my interest on that day. My hand reached for an unimpressive stone and tossed in the air a few times. Then, I turned instead to my leather satchel of tools, and picked out my favorite one, the sharpened diamond, which I prized for its durability and precision. But instead of using it to get started on anything, I found myself gazing into its rough cracks, both large and microscopic. I found myself daydreaming, trying to find patterns in the lines of the diamond that didn't exist. I began to grow highly agitated with myself for lacking any creative inspiration. I had nothing, not a single idea which I could transcend from mind to hand. Why did I even come out there in the first place if I had nothing to show for it? So, as I idly picked at the rock with the diamond tool, I did nothing but think, or at least try to think.

I don't even remember what was on my mind, what petty and insignificant happenings of my previously mundane and listless existence that kept my focus. All I can remember of that day was that no matter how hard I tried, my thoughts somehow ended up coming back to her. One second, I was thinking of the coming spring, and then I would see her face in my mind. Mentally slapping myself each time, I changed the subject of my internal monologue. But in the end, she would pop in at any random moment, my vision of our futures flashing in my skull like a broken record. Each time they appeared, I attempted to push them away, refusing to subject myself to watching that which I already knew.

There we were; she and I resting in the foothills above Paris, watching the city, its shape blurry and uncertain. But we were there together, two people who had affected each other so completely, and had altered each other in so many ways, ways which I at that point could not know. There was something off about the image, as if neither of us looked like the same people, and yet we appeared exactly as we always were. Most peculiar.

It was strange to be thinking so much about a girl I barely knew, had barely ever spent time with. But our future was so integrated with the other's that I couldn't ignore it being replayed in my head over and over. I eventually gave up resisting and let the images come, and they soon played their terrible and yet wonderful dance.

Perhaps one could say that I had developed a petty infatuation with Christelle, which could be fully understandable. After all, she was the newest face to come to earth in one hundred and fifty years. I'm sure that any male, single vampire would constantly watch her for hours just to have something new to look at. For a brief moment, I wondered what Arden would do if he met her and laughed. Sure, I thought she was a perfectly pretty girl, even beautiful. Her dark, full hair highlighted her pale, under-exposed skin nicely, and her straight bangs framed her silvery-gray eyes that were both light and young and yet somehow pierced right through your soul. I focused on her face in my visions, the image becoming clearer and clearer the more I thought about it. I could see my arms holding her as we watched the city below, how she hugged me back in sadness, but at the same time, utter joy. And _I _her dispair and ecstasy too.

And then I realized: this was the beginning of it all. I was going to fall for her, wasn't I? That was how the story would come to end. For a moment, I was slightly stunned with myself as I realized my fate, uncertain how to feel about all of this. For several seconds, I repeated this concept over and over to myself. Was it really possible? We were so different, such opposites. She committed to action but neglected to carefully her words; I was so peculiar about what I should say but rarely acted on my own terms. She was aggressive, I was passive. She was never socially frightened, and I was collectively awkward (growing up in the isolated jungles of South America would do that to you). No, that wasn't the real reason, it couldn't be. Besides, she despised me.

But then again, were my visions ever wrong? No, they weren't I admitted to myself. This was how it was going to be, and from my experience, it is impossible to alter that which was already definite. But I thought to myself—was this necessarily a bad thing? Of course not. There was nothing evil or bad about love. It wouldn't hurt either of us, but as to how it would affect those around us I was completely uncertain. Of course, I didn't love her yet then. It was far too soon to speak of such serious concepts like that. Did I even like her that way? I wasn't too sure. I mean, yes she's pretty, but I didn't think of her like _that,_ at least not then.

A twinge of apprehensiveness hit me, however; I knew well the story of the complications that Edward and Bella had to go through to make their relationship work. But then again, our situations-though appearing synonymous on the surface-were quite different. I felt no bloodlust around her, no desire to hurt her. Still…there were so many open loopholes, gaps in the story I couldn't see.

I had to briefly stop myself, knowing that if I thought about the situation any more, I would end up staying in the grotto for hours longer. It was only then that I realize my hands had been carving the stone in my hand the entire time. I looked down upon the piece rock that I held in my right hand, the diamond tool slowing to merely scraping the stone. My eyes narrowed as I noticed what it was; a crude, but unmistakably recognizable, human hand. Something about it stuck to me even though it was such a poorly executed carving. It was such a sad, misshapen looking thing, with some fingers too thick and others too thin. The fingers were curved grotesquely, as if to hold something. I don't know why, but I stared at it far longer than it deserved, trying to figure out just what was missing from the hand's grasp.

* * *

My stomach was what jolted me back to reality. The sky had turned from the muted, pale colors of the morning to the cold brightness of mid-day autumn. It never ceased to amaze me how I could spend so many hours in this secluded place and not notice the day flash before me. Everyone else should be back by now, waiting for me but not worrying where I was. My hand still held my most recent creation. Not knowing why it was important, I set it among my prized work, put away my tools, and ran back home. Hopefully Bella brought back some game to cook. I returned before I knew it. Just from the smell of the air and the sound of chatter in the distance, I knew they had returned from the hunt. And then a wonderful wave of sizzling deer meat hit my nose with all its succulent juices boiling away. Delicious.

I gently opened the front door, and I could hear that most of my family was upstairs; Renesmee and Christelle were not there.

"Well there you are, Nahuel," Bella said from the kitchen as she gingerly handled the frying pan, flipping four chunks of the flesh in perfect unison. "We just got back. I figured you would come back when you smelled lunch."

"Yeah, thanks," I said. My eyes turned to Jacob, who was setting the table for four. He shook his head. I sighed, knowing that it would do no help to look for them.

"Hey everyone, while Nahuel and I are eating, we have something to discuss with you," Jacob said.

"We do?" I asked.

"Well, I figured you wanted to get a couple of extra opinions." I wasn't quite sure which direction he was heading exactly, but I decided to follow along. Just as soon as he spoke the words, the entire family appeared instantly, seated at the long oak table, looking much less irritable than before; their eyes the gold color of satisfaction. I noted to myself that I should go hunting soon.

"So what's up?" Alice asked. I sat down beside Jacob, and gave him a nod that suggested him to speak first.

"It concerns Christelle," he said. Their attention perked up slightly. "This morning she told us that she wants to spend time in the woods…by herself. Now, Renesmee is out there keeping watch to make sure that no one will put her in danger, but we'd rather not risk anything."

"Then just tell her to stay inside. Is it that difficult?" Rosalie asked. Jacob looked to me. What, he wanted me to say something? His right eyebrow cocked. Fine, then.

"Well, I talked to her last night…and it's clear she's not over what happened last summer. She vehemently told me that she wants to be left alone to think things over. I guess she's trying to face Neil's death…and as much as I want to be sure she's safe, I don't want to keep her from doing something she feels so strongly about." Carlisle nodded.

"I agree. It's best not to hinder a woman with an unchanged mindset, especially someone so stubborn like Christelle. I would suggest you let her do as she asks."

"But it's also the right decision to make sure she's safe," Edward said. "We can't risk her being found."

"Speaking of which," Emmett said. "…why can't I smell her in the house?"

"Yeah, I was wondering the same thing," Bella agreed. I smiled, satisfied that the muffler worked as well as Christelle said it would.

"She brought this amazing device that eliminates any desired smell anywhere in an enclosed area. You can see over there on the table by the couch," I said, pointing to the tall, sleek canister. Their heads whipped to face it.

"Oh," Emmett said. "I was wondering what that was. Impressive."

"For now, that will keep her safe in case anyone drops by the house. They won't be able to detect her inside, it's just outdoors that's a bit of a problem," Jacob said.

"Perhaps we can have her only come in through the back door, or one of us can jump her through one of the upper windows," Edward suggested.

"Either way," Carlisle said, "we're going to have to be especially careful how she maneuvers around and outside the house. We can't have let what happened in June happen again. I'll never forgive myself if I put any of you through that again."

"It wasn't your fault," Bella said as assuringly as she could, but Carlisle's face was still sad. "Don't worry, we'll all work to make sure any trace of her stays hidden."

"Which brings me to the next subject: her ship," Jacob said. "She herself gave us the ok to dismantle it, but how should we do it, and what should we do with the pieces? It's metal, so it can't burn, so how do we cover it up?"

"Perhaps we can utilize the individual parts," Carlisle added. "After all, didn't we need new pipes for the house?"

"Yeah, we did," Jacob said.

"And we can use the electrical wires. Maybe we can bring some electricity into this house," I added.

"It would be too suspicious if we suddenly had our house lighted up at night," Rosalie interjected. True; if there was one way to attract others to our home that would be one of the best.

"Well, there's always the shower," I added, hoping that Rosalie would cheer up at the sound of that. It worked; she smiled a little, and so did Bella and Alice.

"When should we get started, then?" Alice asked.

"Whenever you're up to it," a voice said from the front door; Christelle. My eyes widened, realizing that she had just left her scent in the most conspicuous part of the house. But it was already too late, and we would just have to inform her of protocol later. Alice said rain would come tonight anyway, so it should be all washed away.

Christelle looked worn out, not physically but mentally. Though it was around noon, she appeared as weary as she did this morning. Her eyes were heavy and her posture slightly stooped. Renesmee was behind her.

"I could smell the steak from the woods. Is it still warm?" Renesmee asked sweetly. She looked at us with a face too serious to match her polite voice. Christelle didn't catch the look, thankfully.

"I decided I didn't want Renesmee to keep hungry, so I agreed to come in for lunch too," she said, in a voice as tired as her appearance. What happened to her? But instead of explaining herself, which I didn't plan on her doing anyway, she simply sat at the table and began biting into her steak. She didn't comment on it. Renesmee followed suit, not sure of what to say.

"Anyway, as I was saying, you can dismantle it this afternoon if you wish. It'll take a while, though, probably a few days."

"We've got plenty of time," Bella said. Everyone chuckled a little uncomfortably.

"Oh, and feel free to keep whatever you want from my ship," she added.

"We were just thinking of that, actually," Alice said. The atmosphere was thick as Christelle simply remained silent as she ate. Her eyes didn't leave the plate as she idly cut and bit into her food. Was it just me, or did her eyes produce bags? No one spoke or possibly even breathed until she finished, when a little glimmer suddenly filled her eyes.

"Well, should we go get started?" she asked, with a little enthusiasm. I didn't understand, what was with her bipolar nature all of a sudden? It made no sense. I would definitely need to speak with Renesmee sometime soon to see just what Christelle was doing today. Feigning equal enthusiasm was Edward, who was especially good at that sort of a thing.

"Sure, let's not waste time," he said with a half smile. Christelle gave something between a smirk and a grin.

"Let's go dismantle evidence." Under different circumstances, the comment would have been light, even funny. But the way she said it was like the final steak her memories of home, in her possibility of going back to the life she knew before. No one responded to her remark as we headed out the door to get to work.


	7. Observations

**Whew, sorry for the hideously long, incredibly irregular publishing. But FINALLY, all major projects are done (but finals are not...AHHHH!!!). Just something I'd like to share; check out the band Within Tempation. If you love Evanescence, here's the European equivillent that are just as good. I've listened to them a lot when writing this chapter (but that doesn't mean this is an uber emo chapter). Anywhoo, enough of my babbling: have some marble cake and enjoy.**

There's a strange quiet that settles over the house at night, even though six of us never sleep. It was an atmosphere I never understood because I've never figured out exactly why it exists. But whenever the night has fallen, and all there is to hear is the wind, a calm resides that leaves you feeling both relaxed and restless at the same time. It is at this time when we are least likely to speak to each other, when we think over the events of the day, when we reflect on our lives and all the little mundane things that suddenly seem important to us.

I sat by the evening fire place that night, tired from the exhausting afternoon of dismantling and scavenging an entire ship. Every one of its details played an important part in my recollection; having a project like that was one of the more exciting moments in my recent existence. The first being Christelle's arrival six months ago.

When your endless days are permanent repeats of yesterday and the day before that and the day before that, it requires effort to stray away the boredom, which is easily done by making everything a big deal. So as I sat in that soft yet ancient sofa, simply doing nothing but thinking about everything that had happened in the past three days it took to dismantle the ship, I lingered on everything we collected: the dry shower, the heater, pipes, new tools and equipment, giving each item equal thought time.

My eyes began to droop before Renesmee walked by the sofa on her way upstairs to bed. I had been meaning to talk to her lately, to ask about Christelle and the observations she had made of her in the past several days. Thankfully, Christelle had already gone off to bed. When I saw that everyone else was busy toying with the new supplies while she was on the sofa by the fire, I decided to seize the opportunity. I felt uncomfortable asking about it, but my desire to know overcame my inhibitions.

"Renesmee, can I talk to you for a minute?" I asked quietly. Her head turned in my direction.

"Yeah, what is it?" she asked. She walked over to the couch, and sat beside me.

"Well, it's about Christelle, to be honest," I said. God, I was beginning to sound like a stalker from constantly talking about her. "I was just wondering, um, how she's been? I mean, you are around her, sort of, more than any of us. Is she, you know, coping well with the situation?" Her face looked on me somberly.

"Well, to be honest, I'm worried about her. She never speaks whenever she stays outside, but it's at night when she talks a lot."

"In her sleep?"

"Yeah, my room is next to hers, you know. It sounds like she has nightmares every night."

"Well, what was she saying?" I asked.

"It's just wisps of dialogue more than conversation. But no matter what, it's always about her brother. It seems that she feels responsible for his death. Except…there was one time when she said something like, 'Gone…all gone'. But I don't know what she's talking about. Do you have any idea?"

_They were _grateful_ that I left, Nahuel! So really, thanks again for greeting me so warmly after I've been rejected by everyone I know! _

That's what she said earlier…What's going on?

"Nahuel, do you think she may be going through some sort of post-traumatic stress?" Renesmee asked.

"Well, it's a definite possibility," I added. I sighed, feeling somewhat defeated and absolutely frustrated. "I've wanted to ask her for a while now, but no matter what I do, she doesn't want to talk to me or anyone else about it. How can I help her if she won't let me?"

"Just give her time to adjust to her new home. She needs rest."

"But if I wait longer, she'll get worse." Renesmee looked at the fire, thinking for a moment.

"Do you know how to make a girl feel good? Get her flowers," she said, lightening up the mood.

"That would be fantastic, except it's the middle of winter, Renesmee."

"Well, maybe you can make her something. Carve a really pretty figure for her. I'm sure she'd appreciate a any kind of gift. She may be tough, but every girl softens up to gifts. Well, I suppose Bella is the exception to that rule."

"I heard that," Bella called from upstairs. I chuckled a little.

"A gift, huh? I'll see. I won't bake her cookies, that's for sure." Renesmee smiled.

"It's good that you care about her so much. I suppose she needs a friend out of all of us, huh?"

"Yeah, I suppose you're right," I said.

"Anyway," she said with an enormous yawn that seemed incapable coming from her tiny body, "I'm off to bed. Rest easy, brother; let the morning come. It'll all work out." With a little hug, she retired upstairs.

Well, she certainly made the whole situation sound easier, but that didn't mean that it actually was. First off, what the hell could I get her? I don't have any conventional gifts, no flowers, no chocolate, no lotion or whatever it was girls used to give each other before the Disaster. It's the eve of winter; there's not much to go around in the way of anything. Not wanting to give myself a headache, I decided to sleep on it. I've find that decisions are one of the few things in life are solved in time.

I marched upstairs without any spectacle and headed for my room. There's not much there, except for my bed and my clothes dresser, both of which I made myself. The dresser is carved with an ornate depiction of my homeland, the jungles of South America, filled with tropical plants, trees, birds, jaguars, flowers, you name it. The bed post is detailed with an urban center, though I didn't specify any one. It's bustling with life in an immense, clean, and lively city square, with the skyline blocking most of the sky. The slimmest crescent of the moon is visible from my window, and it casts a very faint silvery glow on the wood floors. The window is open, but despite the awful draft coming in, I'm not cold, so I don't bother shutting it. The only thing I can think of doing, the only thing I want to do, is sleep.

I crash into the bed—hard—and I think I hear it crack. But I ignore it, and let the lethargy overcome me. My eyes close, and I enter another dark, dreamless, but calm sleep. I never dream, I never have. I used to wonder if it was because of what I am, but when I met Renesmee, I quickly shoved that theory aside. Perhaps it was just how my mind worked.

* * *

Despite the change in weather, Christelle still insisted on being alone, all the while saying that she could just wear some warm clothing.

She only comes in for meals and for sleep, but other than that, I don't see her much. I worry for her, as does the rest of the family, though it often feels strange that I should considering that I barely know her. We're not sure how to handle the situation. I asked Carlisle if she does indeed have signs of post-traumatic stress, and he agreed with me. He says it's best to reach out to her, but to not rush anything. Great, just what I wanted to hear, the same conundrum rambling through my head these past couple of weeks.

On top of that, I still had absolutely no clue what I should give her. It had been a month since she had landed; Christmas was coming. What do guys give their girl acquaintances anyway? I never recalled actually needed to do that before, but it would be too embarrassing to ask Edward or Emmett for advice. They would laugh at me. I wouldn't blame them; my lack of social knowledge was comical to most people I knew.

Besides, we at the Cullen estate didn't really bother with Christmas as much as we used to. We still spent time together, joking and telling stories and family things like that, but we've stopped giving gifts. After all, silly material gifts only last for a short time.

* * *

Three days until Christmas, and still no ideas. I couldn't begin to fathom what she was sentimental too, or what she treasured on the Station, or even if she would want anything at all. In order to find out, I would need to speak with her. Luckily for me, Christelle caught a cold after all that time in the freezing snowy terrain. Rosalie, being a tad insensitive, wouldn't stop scolding her, saying it's her own fault for constantly being in the cold. I know it's a bad thing for humans to get sick, but I was happy, seeing as I could use that opportunity to finally talk to her, I thought.

In the cooling light of the late afternoon, I got up some courage to finally see her, and this time, I came prepared. Before walking up that long stairway, I made her some hot tea; a warm, homey flavor that I thought would cheer her up. Plus, after remembering my past stupidity, I actually came up with something to say, planning out to casually ask her if she wanted anything, or maybe we could exchange gift ideas for other people. Keep it light, don't distress her, and don't apologize yet. Like Carlisle said, I needed to take it slow so as not to distress her further.

With the warm tea in my hand, I ascended the stairs to Christelle's room. The upper floor felt especially still, with the creaks from the wooden floors practically shouting at me with every step. Though it was impossible for me to be, I'm sure if I was human, it would have felt very cold up there, even with the new heater installed. I briefly wondered if there was a window left opened.

At the end of the hall, the door to Christelle's room was closed. I didn't know why I felt so awkward about giving her a stupid cup of tea. Mentally slapping myself for not being man enough, I opened the door as quietly as I could, peeking inside.

She was lying in bed, reading an old book, though not looking particularly absorbed by it. The sickness certainly showed on her face; she had become so pale in complexion, her once silvery-green eyes were now shallow and gray. But beyond looks, there were other signs; I could hear her breath heavy and clotted in her chest. Her smell, too, was affected. Disease does interesting things to the smell of blood. Christelle generally radiated a wondrous fragrance, but the illness made it smell tainted, almost ugly. Vampires always went for healthy humans; it wasn't like they could escape anyway.

Christelle's mind seemed to be far away, lost and trying to figure out what to do. Unusually, however, she reacted to my presence before I even said a word.

"Yes, Nahuel?" she said, her sore throat making the words sounding choked out. I gave a slight breath, and walked in as inconspicuously as possible.

"I thought I should give you some tea. It's supposed to help with your throat." I placed the steaming cup on the stand beside her bed. Something there caught my attention immediately; it was the little brown cardboard box that I remember she brought back from her ship. I had forgotten all about it, but now, a twinge of curiosity struck me. Would it be wise to bring it up? I mean, it probably wasn't smart of me to bring up something that she wanted to keep private and—

"What's in the box?" Damn! How did I somehow manage to spit out whatever was on my mind when I was in the same room as her? Maybe she was some kind of witch provoking whatever I was hiding out into the open. To my surprise, she didn't get mad at me. She casually looked over at the little box as if it posed no consequential importance. Did I detect the faint ghost of a smile on her face?

"Nothing, just some flower seeds," she said sleepily, her eyelids fluttering with the words.

"Flower seeds?" What a peculiar thing to keep.

"Yeah, I was hoping to plant them when spring comes."

"I would have never guessed you like gardening." You are, after all, a person of many surprises.

"I may like to run around, but that doesn't mean I don't like to do something relaxing." Was that a comeback at me? I ignored it. Her voice was just rough from sounding sick. It would be best to not try to distress her further.

"So, what kind are they?" A simple, inoffensive question.

"There's a picture in the box," she said, pointing to the box lazily. "It's a Blue Columbine." She sounded and acted so lethargic; it couldn't be any more obvious that she would be sick for a while now.

I opened the lid of the box. Sure enough, there was a packet of seeds with a picture of a beautiful, delicate blue flower on the cover. It had two layers; one was dark blue and fat with five petals, the second layer was thinner, white, and also with five petals. In the inner region were brilliant yellow stamens. I could see why she would like it, or why anyone would like it; it really was pretty. It would be something really nice to—

"I'll be happy to help you plant these, but lets wait until the ground thaws, ok?"

"How long will that take?" She coughed hoarsely.

"About three or four months, depending on the weather. It was a late snowfall, so maybe it'll be a short winter." Great, I was talking about the weather.

"I like the snow, though. It's different, cold and yet soft." She coughed again, sipped some tea weakly, and shut her eyes to sleep.

"You should stay rested."

"Thanks for the tea," she mumbled, before drifting off to sleep. Her eyes still closed, I held onto the packet of seeds, looking at the picture.

I knew exactly what to give her now.


	8. Christmas

**To say I'm feeling great would be an understatement. School is finally over, my vacation starts next Saturday, I'm now a year older, the second season of True Blood starts tonight, and I'm FINALLY producing a new chapter! Again, gomen nasai (that's sorry in Japanese) for publishing so late, but you know how finals go. Anywhoo, hope you enjoy this with a big fat red velvet cupcake.**

I awoke to the sound of a tree branch slapping violently against my window. I jolted upright, as if a weight just fell on my stomache. My head turned sharply toward the noise. Outside, blinding snow was rushing by, blown by the harsh winds of a midwinter blizzard. The branch must have blown off from a nearby tree. Recovering from the initial shock, I felt my head rest gently back on my pillow again.

A short, heavy breath filled my lungs, and I once again jolted upright. I just remembered; it was Christmas.

My eyes glanced towards Christelle's present, wrapped in a clean, red cloth and tied with a ribbon. Even with my best efforts, it still was a pretty pathetic wrapping job, looking quite misshapen and asymmetrical. Maybe I should have left that job to Alice. But then again, she would make wrapping the small thing a grand spectacle that just wasn't right for it. Maybe its hideous wrapping job would get a laugh.

Over the roar of the wind, I could hear the piano playing, sounding fantastic with the new strings. Edward was playing a 50's rock sounding song, and everyone else was singing along. It's funny how song is often the best medicine. I walked down the hall to join them downstairs when I heard the sound of a steady heartbeat and the breath of deep sleep. Christelle hadn't woken up yet.

And perhaps, that's what was best for her. The last thing she needed was loss of sleep.

As quietly as I could (which was completely pointless as the blizzard drowned out most noise anyway), I slipped past all the bedrooms to the grand staircase. Just as I thought; Edward was at the piano, with Emmett, Alice, Rosalie, and Carlisle, while Bella was in the kitchen with Jacob and Renesmee making maple toffee, making the house smell like sticky, overwhelmingly strong sugar. The very moment my presence was made known, there arose a chorus of-

"Merry Chris-"

"Shh!" I whispered loudly. "Christelle's still sleeping."

"Nahuel, I doubt her human ears could hear anything above this storm," Emmett said, as usual, too carefree for his own good.

"Well, I guess you have a point there," I said. Emmett gave a somewhat cocky little nod before rejoining in the chorus with the rest gathered around the piano. I slid on the railing down the flight of stairs, jumping a little harder on the rails than I probably should have.

"Hey, careful! Those railings need new screws!" Jacob half yelled at me from the kitchen.

"Oh, sorry, Jacob, I didn't realized," I said. Carlisle chuckled.

"Speaking of weather, Alice," he said, pausing from singing. Alice also paused while Edward, Emmett, and Rosalie kept singing along. "Any sign of this weather clearing up? I'd be nice to go up to the peak today."

"Sorry, Carlisle, it's not a good day today; I can barely see anything two seconds ahead of me." She looked so sad saying that, like she was letting everyone down. Carlisle put his hand on her shoulder.

"Don't worry; I don't think we'll get any surprises today. You'll be better tomorrow." She smiled a little.

"Yeah, maybe tomorrow it'll be a little clearer. We'll see."

"Everyone, don't be so uptight," Edward said, looking at us while his hands, as if they were two separate entities, moved without any restraint or difficulty. "Come on, it's Christmas." He used the coda of his song to transition into the next one smoothly.

_Rockin' around the Christmas tree_

_At the Christmas party hop…_

Rosalie groaned. "Please, isn't there another Christmas song in the universe?" Edward began playing and singing louder. Rosalie's pout grew more deep set. Emmett wrapped his arms around her.

"Cheer up, baby, it's the holidays," he said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. Her frown melted, as he and everyone else joined in the song. Even I started to, and usually I hate singing.

"If you guys were any louder, I think one of the walls would fall down."

All our heads turned sharply towards the sleepy, quiet, and yet still somewhat cutting voice at the top of the stairs. Christelle, her hair thrown together in a messy bun, stood shivering, even when wrapped in a blanket and robe. I instantly felt better upon seeing her; today would be a good day. No, today would be a great day for all of us. I could see that today was the beginning of what was to come. My confidence rose a little.

"It's Christmas, we can do what we like," Alice said, giving an overly theatrical pout and arm-crossing, which was quickly replaced with a teeth baring smile. "Just kidding." Christelle gave a small cough, continuing to shiver.

"Get down here! You must be freezing," Alice said, gliding up the stairs towards her. "Come, you need to sit by the fire and warm up."

"What happened to the heater?" she mumbled, still half-asleep.

"Sorry, some of the wire's froze," Jacob interjected. She cursed under her breath.

"What can I get you to eat?" Bella asked from the kitchen. "I just cooked up some hot soup and bread, and we're almost done with some maple toffees." Christelle gave a small, but warm smile.

"Everything sounds great." She coughed again.

"Still not over that cold?" Carlisle asked.

"Maybe by tomorrow," she said. "But don't worry about me, I'll be fine." Carlisle didn't say anything after that, knowing that any further attempt to give her medicine would be futile; Christelle refused any medical assistance.

"Well, today, we're going to forget all about that and celebrate, right Nahuel?" Renesmee asked.

"Yeah, we've got a lot planned for today," I said.

"He's got a present for you," Renesmee said, pinching my cheeks. Oh, god, I could feel the skin on my face grow hot.

"Cut it out, Renesmee, it's nothing," I grumbled, gently pushing her away from my face.

"You got me a present?" Christelle asked. I was caught off guard; I had expected her to give me some jibe about it, but her appreciation actually sounded genuine. It didn't help with my blush though.

"Um, well, yeah," I said. She smiled for a moment, a warm, if quiet smile that I hadn't seen on her in several days. There was a brief pause.

"Well, don't just sit there," Rosalie interjected, "go get it." I ran to get it before I could have embarrassed myself any further. I must have looked really stupid at that moment.

In my bedroom, I grasped the present lying on my dresser. It was a little bigger than two of my fists, the perfect size, all wrapped and ready to go. No stopping now. I took a deep breath, and casually walked down the hall to the top of the stairs, trying to appear and convince myself to be calm and collected.

"Funny, I thought you would have made something bigger," Jacob teased. Renesmee gave him a playful slap.

"You know what they say," she said.

"Just hand it over," Alice said excitedly, "I want to see it just as badly."

"Don't have a heart attack on me, Alice," Christelle said. I reached out to hand her the gift. She grasped it gently, and brought it to her side. She gave a small, sincere chuckle. "I take it you wrapped it yourself?"

"At least I tried!" I said, a little offended, but I kept the tone light.

"You should have left this job to Alice," Bella said, laughing.

"I almost did," I mumbled, so quiet that it would have sounded like gibberish to the vampires in the room. Christelle removed the ribbon and red cloth with care, as if she would tear the cloth to bits if she wasn't cautious. She gave a slight gasp, and her face brightened up more than I had seen since she arrived here.

She held her flower, the Blue Columbine, made of the finest maple wood and painted with the brightest colors I owned, fresh and smooth. I spent hours getting the light lavender color just right, and making the yellow as bright as possible and the white as pure as it could be. It was laborious and time consuming to make the petals durable and yet thin and delicate in appearance.

Yet, it was all worth it. Christelle was beaming, with greater happiness than I've seen on her for the past month and a half. Unexpectedly, I felt much lighter all of a sudden, as if I no longer weighed anything. I found myself smiling with her. Everyone was making comments of high approval, but I couldn't bring myself to really listen to what they were saying. For the briefest of seconds, I was riding on the moment, knowing I made a breakthrough. A map lay before me; this was the catalyst. Everything was going to fall into place just from this little, seemingly insignificant event. That end image, with me and her sitting on a hill looking over the city, grew a little clearer, though the events between the here and the now were just as blank.

I coughed a little, preventing myself from another embarrassing episode.

"Well, do you like it?" I asked. It was a perfectly acceptable question.

"Duh! I love it, Nahuel, so much," she said. She got up from the couch and gave me a big hug, I didn't see coming. "Thank you." Before I knew it, I was hugging her back.

Ok, get a hold of yourself, I told myself. I drew back.

"Glad you like it," I said. "That took me a while to make."

"I didn't know you did this sort of thing."

"Well, it's more of a hobby…"

"Oh, don't act so humble," Renesmee said. "He's actually a master sculptor; he just doesn't know it yet." I nudged her in the shoulder.

The next sequence of events happened so fast that I barely had time to grasp it. In one huge gush, a powerful wind rattled the house. In the same instant, Alice gave a horrified, wide-eyed gasp.

"Oh, God," she said quietly, almost choking on the words. "It's over."

Before we could ask her what the matter was, the rushing wind blasted our ears for the briefest of moments. A downpour of frozen wind and snow raced into the living room, carrying with it the smell of a vampire. Everyone turned their heads towards the front door, to find that a stranger entered the house.

"Merry Christmas, Cullens!" cried Arden, carrying with him several bottles of fine wine, his wide grin and happy tone of voice not lessening our shock. My instincts kicked in; this was a stranger, and he was a possible danger to my family. True, this was Arden, but the fact remained that our very fragile state of secrecy had just been shattered.

"Decided to bring over some vino I've been saving for the holidays." His eyes immediately darted to Christelle. "Hey, Nahuel, is this that new girl you were talking about earlier? She's quite-" He was just about to finish before he paused, assessing her more closely. All expression of happiness left his face, and he was now staring at her coldly, his eyes narrowing on her pulsating neck. I breathed through his nose, and for a moment, looked confused, but it wasn't enough. Even if he couldn't smell her, he could hear her heartbeat; notice the color of her skin.

He gave a low growl for the briefest of moments, and then lunged for her, dropping the bottles.

There was no time to think, only to act. I had to protect this girl, this fragile key, this all important creature. It didn't matter that Arden was my best friend, I had to stop him. I would harm him if I had to.

There was a deafening crack as our bodies collided mid-air, between a very shocked Alice and a very terrified Christelle.

* * *

**AN: Yes, in this story, the vampires can drink as much as they can smoke. Don't go all technical on me in the reviews.**

* * *


	9. Oath

**Happy summer to all of you! Yes, I've been lagging, and for that, I apologize. Procrastinate from summer reading and enjoy with a peach cobbler, your newest Goodie of the Day (and by the way, read the manga Kuroshitsuji, it kicks ass!)**

**Yo no owno nada.**

* * *

"So, does the whole story make sense now?" I asked Arden once I finished explaining the whole situation to him. He sat across from me in the plush armchair, drinking a glass of the some brandy from the cupboard.

"So…there is no black chick from Africa?"

"No, Arden," I said with slight irritation, "Christelle is as I said she is, nothing more and nothing less. She is perfectly, in every sense of the term, human." He eyed her again, as he had several times before, and without any other conclusion, could only accept that what was said was the truth. He drank another sip of brandy, this time, emptying his glass.

"Damn, Nahuel. Do you realize how insane all of this is? Keeping a human in your house—seriously, what will happen to you during William's upcoming inspections? You'll be caught for sure and once that happens you'll all be-"

"We understand the gravity of the situation, Arden!" I snapped suddenly, surprising myself. Mentally slapping myself to not be so rude, I sucked in some breath. "Look, the fact of the matter is that she has nowhere to go and refuses to return home. We can't abandon her, even though keeping her is dangerous." His expression changed, though I couldn't exactly tell what was on his mind. There was a thick silence.

"Man, I'm going to need something stronger than this," he said. He walked over to our liquor cabinet and selected an ancient bottle of everclear, filling his glass nearly full with the translucent grayish liquid. He drank a large gulp full.

"Look, I know how important she is to you and your family," he began. He took another swig of the everclear. "So I promise to keep your secret." Another toxic silence suffocated the room. He drank another sip.

"How do we know you'll keep it?" said Christelle very suddenly, accusatory rudeness dripping with every syllable. He looked at her with a seriousness I hadn't seen in his face in many years. His eyes narrowed slightly, and his grip on the glass grew stronger.

"Are you calling me a liar?"

"All she's saying is that this is an extremely delicate and dangerous situation," said Carlisle, stepping into the conversation, "and we need everyone to be careful to keep it from falling apart. But yes, it would be helpful for us to have an idea of how serious your word is on this."

"Well, shall I make an oath to her or something?"

"We're not releasing any of her blood," I interjected, keeping my tone as relaxed as possible. "Even with the odor eliminator, the smell of her blood will be too strong; God knows what would happen should it touch your skin."

"Then I'll make it between you and me; I trust you, man, and I know that you'd face a thousand of those William bastards before seeing something happen to her." Christelle looked at me, slightly confused. I didn't give her a response; it wasn't the right place or time, and I was certainly not ready to let her know what I told Arden.

I looked away from Christelle and turned my face back to my best friend. "Very well, then," I said, "I'll exchange an oath with you."

"First though, you must agree to some terms as well. Sorry, Nahuel, but that's how these go."

"Very well then," I said. "If you can insure her protection, we'll insure yours."

He took his right hand, and I took mine, both of us bringing our palms to our lips, and biting down gently, just enough to pierce the skin. Dark blood ran out of my crescent shaped cut, while Arden's oozed a clear, thick liquid. He held out his hand, and I held out mine.

"I swear to you that I shall honor and protect the Cullen family secret of the presence of Christelle Barclay," he said as he grasped my hand. I could feel his scar along his palm, the tiny stick of the liquid from his wound contacting with mine.

"And I swear that should the truth be found out, I shall never give them your name or your participation in the said secret, no matter how many tortures are inflicted upon me." We both gave each other quick nods, and with that, sealed the agreement. In the vampire world, the strongest oath was one where you exchanged oneself with another, most commonly with blood. To break this kind of an oath was one of the most disgraceful acts in our world, one that isn't ever forgiven by the betrayed, whom are allowed to extract revenge however they please. It is said that those who break it are cursed by it, doomed to wander in shame and loneliness for their limitless existences. I trusted that Arden would not break such an oath so easily.

"So, we're in accord then?" he said, more to Christelle than to me. We both nodded simultaneously.

"Yes," I said, not really sure how else to respond. The room's atmosphere, too serious to be awkward, yet too calm to hold any anger, silenced everyone. The only sounds in the room were the beating hearts of Jacob, Renesmee, Christelle, and my own, pounding in my ears. Arden was the first person to break the stillness.

"Well then, I guess I should get going," he said with a hint of a sulk. "Sorry to disrupt your Christmas like this." He walked somberly towards the front door.

"Wait," I said to him. He stopped abruptly. "Look, it's completely hellish out there anyway, and the least we can do is give you is a drink or something for an apology." He held up his empty glass of everclear.

"I think I'm covered on that, thanks."

"Look, I'm sorry for all of this. Could you at least stay so I don't feel like a complete idiot? What's Christmas without my best friend?" He smirked at the corniness of my words, and I smirked back, agreeing with him. He paused to consider, then looked at his glass.

"Well, I guess there is no sadder sight than an empty glass on Christmas day," he said with a smile. "Why don't we get some music going?" He sat down at the piano and began playing a jazzy rendition of "Baby it's Cold Outside", befitting the situation. Everyone else looked at each other briefly, and then shrugged. All of us, Christelle included, gathered around and joined in.

_I really can't stay - Baby it's cold outside  
I've got to go away - Baby it's cold outside  
This evening has been - Been hoping that you'd drop in  
So very nice - I'll hold your hands, they're just like ice  
My mother will start to worry - Beautiful, what's your hurry  
My father will be pacing the floor - Listen to the fireplace roar  
So really I'd better scurry - Beautiful, please don't hurry  
Well maybe just a half a drink more - Put some music on while I pour_

I kept eying her throughout the song, feeling the weight of what I just did. I just made a blood oath for her. Somehow that didn't make me feel any closer to her. If anything, I felt awkward being in the same room as her. I kept catching her glancing at me, the slightest twinge of curiosity in her eyes. Nobody else seemed to notice, and after a while, I stopped caring, and the both of us began to fully immerse ourselves in everyone else. We sang and laughed and drank and partied all day long, just the ten of us, keeping our selves entertained while the sheets of snow and ice rained down around us. Nobody minded.

I sat in my room, getting ready for sleep. It had since warmed up from this morning, and felt much cozier. Dizzy and tired from all the festivities, my eyes felt heavy as I lay down between the warm, soft sheets. It was still snowing outside, but softly, all the severity of the storm had since subsided. I could even see the moon behind the clouds, thin and curved and newly born.

Completely situated, I closed my eyes, anticipating another dreamless, but nonetheless peaceful sleep. Darkly and quietly, I began to sink deeper in my pillow…

Creak.

I jolted so fast and hard out of my bed that for a moment I feared I cracked it. If I was tired before, I certainly wasn't now. The stream of light from the doorway poured in like tea falls from the pot.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to wake you." Christelle. I saw what the near future brought, and I felt bittersweet.

"Oh, not at all. Come on in," I said, lighting the lantern by my bedside. She walked in, still obviously sick, but also more lively from today.

"I just wanted to say thanks again for the present. That was really nice of you." Her voice was smooth, coaxing.

"Oh, don't worry about it," I said. What do I say next? It didn't take me long? It's not that important? Everything I came up with made me sound so nonchalant. I decided not to add on.

"Anyway, this day has been wonderful. Well, with the exception of a rough start. But seriously, thanks for this Christmas. It meant a lot to me." Her eyes met me for the briefest of seconds, and then I saw it, so plain that I couldn't believe I didn't see it before.

"Why are you really here?" I tried to make it sound as gentle as possible, trying to make the words as non-accusatory as possible. As if she was about to say something, her words were cut off. Gotcha.

She sighed and gentle sat down beside me on my bed. She collected herself briefly, gathering her words.

"What the hell was with that oath today?" she said. Her words were obviously blunter than she originally wanted them to be. She bit her lower lip for a short second, as if to cut herself off from speaking anymore. I almost wanted to laugh, but I found myself more embarrassed than anything else. I would have to tell her sometime, tell her about what I know and what I've seen. But not tonight, not the full story; the words, the truth would ease itself out over time.

"The only thing," I said gently, "that you need to understand is that you're very important."

"That's what Arden said. But why am I so important to you? I barely know you," she said accusatory. Her silvery-gray eyes caught the faint moonlight and shined white; they seemed to be trying to shake my core. But I had to keep my composure.

"Your importance is something I'm still trying to sort out." She sighed in frustration.

"Stop speaking in tongues, Nahuel. Answer me straight up; what do you and the Cullens have to do with me?" I felt like a small kitten cornered by a particularly ferocious lion. Many people terrified me, but few could make me feel guilty like her.

"In due time, it will make more sense to both of us," I said, trying to assure her. But she still wasn't satisfied. She paused before blurting out.

"If I tell you why I really left the Station will you tell me why you're putting me on such a high pedestal?" My mouth fell open a little. I certainly wasn't expecting this. For a second I struggled with a word, but I seemed to have gained a spontaneous stuttering problem.

"I don't know if the truth would make you feel any better."

"Well, mine isn't exactly a picker-upper either," she said with utter seriousness. I felt a little intimidated, but the more I reflected, the less uneasy about talking to her. Out of anyone I've ever met, she somehow made the words flow from my mouth the easiest. But would this really be a good idea? She already sounded like she was in a distrusting mood. But then again, she would distrust me even more if I refused to speak to her.

"Alright," I said before I could stop myself. "I'll tell you."

"Dido." She wrapped her arms around herself, her shoulders hunched slightly, as if she were cold.

"When I said they were grateful that I left, well, it was more like they were ready to exile me." Her words were barely above a whisper. Her breath grew slow and deep, yet her heartbeat quickened. Her arms grasped themselves tighter.

"When I brought that colony back to the Station…I-we thought we cleaned and inspected them well enough, but it wasn't enough." She suddenly sucked in air with ferocity before exhaling calmly.

"Before we knew it, people began falling ill, and soon, they began dying." Her voice grew tense, as if her vocal chords were piano wires. "Before I came back Home, I had lost everything: my reputation, my family, my friends. They're gone, everything's gone." She put up a hard fight, but with one final, sharp inhale, she began to cry, her voice soft yet tense.

"It's just not fair. First Neil, then grandma, and father, and Cory and Jared and Clarice and everyone I've ever loved. I've come back with nothing but cruel fate." I couldn't help myself, I hugged her, even though I wasn't sure what words I could possibly say to comfort her.

"Is that why you came back to us?"

"I had no where else to go. But even here, I felt the need to isolate myself. I didn't want anyone to see me, see what I've done, to see what I've become." She paused, her breath choking out. "I'm rejected, I'm deserted. Nobody needs me!" Her last sentence came as a broken cry that sent horrible chills through my body. She buried her face in my chest, soaking my shirt thoroughly. Something warm slid down my cheek. I wiped it away quickly.

"I need you." The words came out before I could stop myself. For a moment, I felt terrified, speaking without thinking first, without contemplating how she would be affected by those three words. But she looked up at me, her eyes red, and I suddenly didn't care.

"Christelle, I can see things about people. I can see if they'll be my friend, my enemy, or completely obtuse to my existence. I can tell how a conversation will end before it even begins. I see how others affect me. And when I first saw you, all those months ago, I…I had never felt so jolted." She hugged me tighter; I gulped.

"Someday, in a few weeks, months, maybe years, you will be the most important person to me ever. I don't know how to describe it. It's like you'll…change my very existence." I grasped her by the shoulders.

"That's why I can't let anyone hurt you, that's why I must protect you. Because…I can't miss out on someone like you." She stared at me with an unreadable expression. I let go of her shoulders, realizing I had practically lifted her off of the bed.

"Oh, sorry about that," I said. She didn't reply. "Look, just try to stay out of trouble, ok?" She continued to stare at me with that cryptic look on her face.

"Christelle, please say something so I don't keep rambling." She seemed to suddenly snap back to reality.

"So, does this mean you like me like _that_, Nahuel?" she asked, her voice suddenly playful.

"What? No! I mean, maybe. I don't know yet! You can't just ask questions like that. It's awkward!" She giggled, and then burst into a full fledged laughter. I had never heard her laugh like that before; it was hearty and sarcastic but utterly joyful. Before I knew it, I couldn't help but laugh myself.

"Some people are _trying _to sleep, here!" I heard Jacob shout down the hall. But that only made us laugh more. We seemed to laugh for minutes before we finally settled down. She paused to compose herself before speaking.

"So, is everything understood then?" she asked.

"Yeah, I think so," I replied. She smiled again.

"Well then, I think I'll head off to bed again. I still think I have one more night of sickness left in me." She rose from the bed, and walked towards the door.

"Yeah, we should probably both get some sleep then," I said as she creaked the door open.

"Well, goodnight, Nahuel," she said.

"Good night, Christelle," I said. She smiled before slipping away into the hall. I listened as her footstep tiptoed down the hall until she reached her room, closed the door, and lay down on the bed. My head fell backwards on the pillow. A sudden, fierce wave of fatigue hit me in the face, and before I could draw another breath, I found myself fast asleep.

Like any other night, I didn't dream. But I could have sworn I heard someone call my name once.


	10. Rumors

**Sorry to be out for so long (damn summer reading), but I promised myself to put out a chapter before vacation. So here it is, I've hit the chapter 10 marker! Enjoy with the Goodie of the Day, apple turnover.**

**Oh, and by the way, I don't own "I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles)". The Proclaimers do.**

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The small club we were in was exceptionally full that Saturday night. It was a tradition between Arden and a few friends of ours to go to Lydon's Bar the last Saturday of the month, when there was a live guitarist singing and playing old songs and some that he wrote himself. If we were lucky, the manager of the bar brought out a freshly killed bear or some other large carnivore, whose blood would be on the house for the whole bar. Other than that, it was usually wine or beer.

That night, when Arden picked me up from the house, I was ready to get out of the house. Since Christelle got over her cold and stopped spending her days out doors, I had hardly any time to myself. It was a slow process, but she began to really interact with everyone in the house, participating in every day activities or contributing to chores (though we often insisted that it was unnecessary). While I was happy that her mood was brighter, being around my family that long grew tiresome; I needed a night with my friends. Bella and Edward were out as well, celebrating their anniversary by traveling down to Spain for the weekend and relaxing along its beaches. Everyone else was busy in the house or relaxing for the evening.

"Well, Nahuel," Arden said when we sat down at our usual booth, "aren't you happy to spend the evening with us?"

"Yeah, it's about time I got out of the house." Arden sat to my right, while my old friend Sebastian sat to my left. To Arden's right was Emiliana, his arm around her shoulder. Next to Sebastian was David, and to his left were the twins Rebecca and Jillian.

"To Friday nights; one of many!" Arden said as he lifted his glass of red beer. Everyone lifted theirs and cheered, following by a simultaneous swig of the drinks. We all sat in our usual booth fit for seven in the corner of the club. Lydon's was dressed up like a traditional Irish pub. Everything was made up of dark wood, and the booths and chairs were upholstered with green dyed leather. All along the walls were ancient and rusting signs that said sayings like "Welcome to Ireland" or "In beer we trust". Several others were smoking the same fragrant, but most likely foul tasting, cigars that Arden always carried around.

"So, Nahuel," Rebecca said in a low voice, "You look awfully happy tonight. Do you have a new girlfriend or something?" For a brief moment of panic, I wondered if Arden had betrayed me. A quick look on his face reassured me that he didn't.

"Uh, no. Why can't I be happy just to have our traditional night?" I asked, trying as hard as I could to not sound nervous, though I felt like I was failing miserably. I was always terrible about telling lies.

"Well, you have that glow on your face, and the only time I ever see it is if you are working on a new project, or you have a new girlfriend." She leaned in closer, her eyes batting teasingly. "So, which one is it?" Everyone else leaned in.

"Yeah, Nahuel, tell us," they commanded in unison, smiling coyly. I hated being put on the spot.

"Sorry to disappoint, but I don't have a new girlfriend. I actually am working on a new project."

"Ooh, tell us about that," Jillian said. Crap, now I would have to spin an entire story.

"Uh, well, I guess I'm trying a full sized human sculpture again. I haven't done one in a while." They seemed to be satisfied with my response but were itching for more.

"Who is it? Anyone we know?" David asked. I needed something fast. If I were Christelle, I would have a whole layout of what I would say mapped out in my head already. Though, if I were Christelle, I probably wouldn't follow any pre-prepared dialogue.

"No, I'm just creating someone out of my head," I said. It would be better not to name anyone specific, lest they ask more about that person. This made my job much easier.

"Well, you'll have to show us when it's done, ok?" Emiliana added.

"I promise," I said.

Just then, a guitar strummed from the tiny stage. Everyone's eyes turned toward it.

"Is everyone ready for a good time tonight?" asked Andy, the guitarist. Everyone raised their glasses and cheered. He began to improvise a picking melody. "Well, shall we start with a request?" Before anyone could shout a song title, Sebastian was already up on the stage, whispering in Andy's ear. Without fail, he was always the first person to request a song, and it was usually a good rock and roll song that brought back nostalgia in each of us, and was always a great one to start off.

"Yeah, sure," Andy said, "I haven't played that in, what, twenty-five years!" Sebastian gave Andy a tip in the jar and sat back down next to me. Andy began playing a rhythmic, staccato song that sounded vaguely familiar. People began clapping their hands to the beat or tapping their hands on the table.

_When I wake up, well I know I'm gonna be_

_I'm gonna be the man who wakes up next to you._

"Oh, nice pick, Sebastian!" Rebecca said, giving him a light punch on the shoulder. We all joined in now that we recognized the song.

_When I go out, oh I know I'm gonna be_

_I'm gonna be the man who goes along with you_

_If I get drunk, oh I know I'm gonna be_

_I'm gonna be the man who gets drunk next to you_

_If I heaver, well I know I'm gonna be_

_I'm gonna be the man whose heavering to you_

At this point, the whole club was singing along, waving their glasses to the beat or stomping the floor. The manager was in the corner getting angry at one guy who accidentally dented the floorboards. When the chorus came about, everyone erupted in song.

_But I would walk 500 miles_

_And I would walk 500 more_

_Just to be the man who walks a 1000 miles_

_To fall down at your door._

We were all singing along, leaving all the stress of our endless lives behind us. I briefly thought of Christelle, and how much she would have loved to have been there. She must have been so bored from being in the house all day. We continued throughout the rest of the song, further sinking into the moment and letting go.

When the song was over, everyone clapped and whistled.

"Hey, everybody," Andy said, "our good manager, Bob, has told me that he has a fresh bear that he caught only minutes ago." Everyone cheered again. It had been a while since most people had any large game, most of which was either hibernating or had migrated south for the winter. The bartenders ran out from behind the bar, carrying trays filled with glasses of warm, fresh blood. They began passing the glasses around, stopping last at our table in the farthest corner from the bar.

"Everybody raise your glasses," Andy said. The crowd followed his request. "Give me an 'oye'!"

"Oye!" everybody shouted in unison.

"Two oyes!" he shouted.

"Oye oye!"

"Three oyes!" he shouted.

"Oye oye oye!" everyone responded.

"Now sip it down," he said. As everyone did, they gave the customary "mmmmm" sound.

"Perfect, now the night has officially begun!" Andy started strumming the chords for "Free Falling". Everyone joined in as he strummed away and hummed on a harmonica.

"See, Nahuel, isn't this better than staying at home?" Arden asked me, his lips tinted red from the crimson drink in his glass.

"Definitely," I responded. I held up my glass and clinked it with his before sipping again. It was warm and homely, and undeniably fresh. I had to restrain myself from gulping all of the contents at once, hoping to make it last as I could.

The door creaked slightly, which made my head shoot towards the club's entrance. My stomach back flipped; it was William. He wasn't alone. Accompanying him were five other officers, cloaked in black uniforms, while he was dressed in his impeccably sharp suit and red tie. Andy didn't stop singing, but the voices singing in the bar grew quieter. Several people gave small coughs. William, taller than most men, surveyed the room with his analytical glare, until they rested on our booth. He gestured his men over, and they began walking towards our table. I felt sick.

"Citizens, please excuse yourselves from this booth," he said in his smooth and venomous voice. Everyone looked at each other, too smart to back talk to him. Everyone that is, except Sebastian.

"Sir, I hate to tell you, but we were here first." I could have punched off his jaw bone right then and there. Sebastian, unfortunately, wasn't afraid of authority and did whatever he wanted and to hell with everyone else. I nudged him hard in his ribs with my elbow.

"Now's not the time for this!" I whispered harshly in his ear. William smiled liplessly.

"Do you have something to say, you filthy half-breed?" he said to me. The words cut like a knife, but I had to keep a brave face.

"No sir, I have nothing to say. We'll be going now," I said, half pushing Sebastian and everyone else out of the booth. But as I was pushing, I overestimated how hard to push, and as Sebastian walked forward faster than expected, I half fell, right in front of everyone. Quickly as I could, I got myself up again, but the move was not missed by William and his people. They laughed cruelly.

"It's creatures like you that disgrace our race," he coldly whispered. My muscles tightened, as if to fight, but at the moment I felt two feet tall. The small scene didn't miss the eyes of other onlookers in the club. Some began to snicker as well; I hoped that it was only to gain favor with William. Someone in the back whispered "Disgusting", purposefully loud enough for me to hear.

"Come on, Nahuel, lets get out of here," Arden said. He put his hand on my shoulder, but I pushed it off.

"I'm fine. Don't let worry about me. I'm ruining the night as it is," I said as we all began to walk out the front door. "Go back in and have fun."

"What? No, we just got here, we're not leaving without you," Jillian protested. Everyone nodded in agreement.

"Thanks, you guys, but I just some time alone, ok?" They looked at me in silence. "Please? There's another bar with music down a few blocks. Go on ahead; I'll catch up with you guys later." They looked at me for several seconds before deciding I wasn't going to change my mind.

"Fine, we'll head over there. We'll save you a beer," Arden said regrettably.

"Thanks, man," I said. "See you guys later." They waved goodbye and walked down the street. Every few seconds, one of them would look back, but soon they continued on down the snowy avenue.

I stood alone for a few moments before heading behind the club. There was a small torch light in the ally way, which wouldn't have really mattered anyway. I leaned against the wall.

That certainly wasn't the first time I had ever been humiliated in public for who I was, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. Any time I encountered William, it was almost certain of him to bring it up. Sometimes, I felt incredibly lonely because of it. I mean, I had Renesmee and Jacob, who often received the same treatment from most of the community, but it still affected me. I was truly luck to have friends like Arden and Sebastian and Rebecca, who didn't give a damn about how I came into this world.

"Rebellion." The word was so quiet that I almost didn't catch it. It came from the other side of the wall, and I quickly realized that I was just on the other side of the wall from our booth. A rebellion? I pressed my ear against the wall, straining to hear. They were talking quietly, but I could still pick out their words.

"-assure you that there's been talk of an uprising," one of the men said. I didn't recognize the voice; it was obviously an officer.

"Where have you received this information? What sources?" I recognized that voice as William's.

"Just rumors that have been floating around. But there have been reports of people actually hearing conversations mentioning the possibility. However, we have no way of determining if any of these reports are true, sir."

"We cannot risk the possibility. If any more of these reports are submitted to us, take them seriously. The government cannot afford any rebellions at this moment. There's already the possibility of a recession, and-" William briefly stopped. Could he hear me breathing on the other side of the wall? I held my breath, but my heart beat traitorously. There was a moment of silence before the voices continued. I didn't catch what they said, as I immediately dashed out of the ally and into the street, where I was sure I wouldn't be heard.

Was there really going to be a rebellion? I hadn't heard of any rumors of such a thing happening, but the possibility filled me with both excitement and terror. If this was true, then my entire world could be changed. But who was planning such a thing, and why? If I, or anyone else I knew, had heard of such a thing, it either must not be a serious threat, or the police were obviously trying to quiet down the talk. Nevertheless, my mind filled with curiosity, imagining the possibilities. As I walked down the street to meet up with everyone at the bar further down the road, I couldn't help but be caught up in the thought of something new happening. Should I tell everyone at the bar? There was the danger that if I spoke of such things, I could be overheard and reported to the police. If I wanted to discuss it, it would have to be privately, without the risk of being detected.

From then on, I could tell that things were going to get very interesting.


	11. Interrogation

**School's back. *without any enthusiasm whatsoever*yeaaaaaaaa. Well, taking a break from studying, I've decided to grace you with a back to school gift, a new chapter! Hope you enjoy it. Goodie of the Day:cinnamon bun flavored yogurt (never heard of it? Yoplait's thick n creamy. mmmmmmm).**

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There were no voices audible from outside the house, but the soft glow of torchlight still burned inside. As I opened the opulent front doors, I was hit by the much warmer and cozier air from the inside as the outside chill blew through into the hallway. Closing the door behind me, the air immediately sealed off.

"Did you have fun?" Alice asked. She was in the middle of sewing what looked like a large sheet.

"Yeah, I did," I said, not adding the incident at the club nor what I overheard. I considered asking Carlisle if he had heard of any rumors of rebellion; he knew much more about the city's politics than any of us. "Andy was great as usual."

"And how's everyone else doing?"

"Never better. What have you guys been up to since I left?"

"Not much. Carlisle's still in his lab as usual, Edward, Bella, Emmett and Rosalie went out hunting. Everyone else went to bed over an hour ago."

"What are you making?"

"Oh, this? Just some new sheets for Christelle. Those old ones of Carlisle's are so stiff and yellowing, you know?" She continued back to her work, busily working with the new sewing supplies that Christelle gave her. Her concentration seemed unbreakable; I knew she was thinking about more than sewing. It was moments like this, when Alice would get so wrapped up in her mind that she would seem to day dream for hours on end, that she was never up to talking.

My eyes felt heavy, but I paused briefly, and finally walked past the stairs and down the hall. Stopping at the top of the basement stairway, I wondered if this was really a good idea. Well, if he was busy, I would just ask another time. Besides, I wasn't going to ask what he was doing; it was just chatting with my foster father. So, after giving myself a reassuring sigh, I descended the stairs and knocked on the old, wooden door at the bottom.

"Carlisle," I called gently, "are you busy?"

"Not at all, Nahuel. Come in." I opened the door.

None of us went inside Carlisle's lab on a regular basis; it was considered his personal room. Still, we were all aware of what was inside it. It was clean and orderly, filled with stainless steel counters and glass containers filled with liquids in a variety of colors. In the corner, right on the small desk was a fading picture of Esme, held in a frame that I myself carved and plated with gold by Carlisle. There was a new addition to the room since I was last here; a small glass cage filled with several field mice. Carlisle was sitting at his desk, writing something on a sheet of paper. Even though sleep wasn't necessary for him, his eyes were still as tired looking as ever when he turned around in his chair. It was odd, but in this light, it appeared almost as if he had wrinkles, which I knew was physically impossible.

"Are you sure I'm not bothering you?" I asked politely, just to make sure.

"No, I'm just trying to figure out an equation." I glanced at his paper; it was covered with what appeared to be chemical equations, diagrams and symbols which I didn't recognize. "So, what's up? How were the guys?"

"They did pretty well," I said. It took a little courage before admitting the next line. "But, um, William came. He and I kind of…quarreled." Carlisle sighed heavily, his fist tightening fiercely.

"He didn't threaten you or anything like that?" he said, his voice a combination of concern and anger.

"No, he just said his usual comments. It was no big deal; we just went to another club." I wanted to sound brave and nonchalant, but I still felt bothered by tonight, as I had so many nights when this sort of situation happened. Carlisle was always easy to talk to about these sorts of things. He bit his lower lip.

"And that was it?"

"Yeah, that's all." He smiled gently.

"I know it isn't easy dealing with someone like William. Just remember, he has lots of power. Don't underestimate him," he admonished.

"I understand." For a brief moment, I once again considered asking him what I really came here for. I felt a little stupid; what was so bad about asking?

"Hey, Carlisle," I said.

"Yeah?"

"Have you heard any rumors concerning some sort of uprising?" Carlisle's face flinched so fast that I almost missed it. Or was it just my imagination? But now his face appeared curious.

"An uprising? That doesn't seem like a something anyone would talk about so lightly. Where'd you hear it?"

"Well." I brought my voice to the lowest whisper of registration, lest anyone else from the house would overhear. "I heard William talking about it to some officers at the bar. They seemed to be really concerned about it, even though they're not really sure if it's true or not." Carlisle listened in with an unusual intensity, making me feel a little on the spot. Finally, he spoke.

"Sorry, Nahuel; can't help you there. Who knows, it may be just that: a rumor. Don't dwell on it." His face was calm and light, but I could almost pick up a faint trace of some unknown thought etched in his eyes. Maybe it was just my imagination.

"Well, thanks anyway, Carlisle. I'll let you know if I hear anything further."

"I will. Oh, and Nahuel," he added on. I turned my head to look at him again. "I wouldn't go around mentioning this. If word reaches any of the police, it would be bad if you were implicated." He kept his tone light, but the look on his face was dead serious.

"I understand. Thanks, Carlisle."

"Don't mention it." He turned around and sat down at his desk before I closed the door behind me and ascended the stairway.

The next three days passed with a strange calm. Bella and Edward came home from their trip to Spain, and everyone else returned to their usual routine. While everything was peaceful, it was oddly quiet, like the soft wind before a powerful gale. Maybe it was my gift of foresight, but I couldn't shake this feeling of uneasiness that seemed to dwell in me.

Certainly, I obeyed Carlisle and didn't tell anyone else what I heard, not Christelle, and especially Arden. As good of friends they were, those two couldn't keep their mouths shut if they tried. But that didn't keep me from constantly thinking about it. As if some angel was whispering admonitions in my ear, I just knew that this was a rumor that wouldn't be allowed to be ignored. There was something in Carlisle's eyes that I couldn't erase from my mind. No matter how many times I imagined it, I couldn't conclude if he was hiding something or not. But this thought was stupid; why would Carlisle hide anything from us? Hell, why would he have anything to do with a rebellion? It was completely unlike Carlisle to participate, much less instigate, violence. No, the idea was completely absurd. I had to abandon it and stop worrying.

To clear my mind, I scanned the library shelves, covered in many volumes with peeling binds, nor any one that I might have missed reading. But many of the books on the shelves were already cleared away, stored away in Bella's electronic library, and then either discarded or placed somewhere safer. Giving up after several minutes, I reclined on the aging leather sofa, bored and swimming with my own suspicious thoughts.

Footsteps made their way through the library, quiet yet determined. My head turned to see Christelle standing in the doorway.

"Hey, Nahuel, didn't Carlisle once mention some sort of special peak of some kind that you guys like to go to?"

"Yeah, but we haven't gone for a while because of bad weather. Why?"

"Well, it's sunny today. Can we go?" Just what exactly would happen at that peak wasn't clear in my head. Muddled colors flooded my vision of the future, usually meaning it would be a mixed bag. Still, I saw no reason not to go.

"Sure, why not?" I said, grateful for the excuse to focus my thoughts on something other than my ridiculous conspiracy theories.

"Oh, good. I've wanted to get out of this house forever. I miss fresh air."

"Well, I assure you the air is excellent up there," I said, raising myself from the couch. "I'll see if any of the others want to go."

"Actually," she said. She caught her self briefly; I could tell she wanted to say something that she knew might not be entirely agreeable. "I was hoping it could just be the two of us," she finished, sounding a little embarrassed.

I felt the same. Now that I thought about it, there was a part of me that really wanted to go alone, but another that felt extremely uncomfortable with one-on-one situations.

"Um, ok, then." I felt dumb not adding anything on, but what could I say really? No, that's ok, let's defy your request and bring everyone! Right. "But you have to travel there my way," I said, hoping the idea of the looming prospect of traveling on my back may cause her to change her mind.

"Ah, dammit, do I have to?" she said, trying to sound playful, though her eyes revealed her true anxiety.

"Unless you'd rather walk; but it's eleven miles and plenty of opportunity of being discovered…"

"Ok, ok, I'll endure it then," she huffed. "Come on," she gestured, "lets go." She walked outside, but before we proceeded, I took a quick run around the estate property, stopping every few seconds to take in the scenery, searching for any trace, any possibility that we would be caught by another vampire. But my observations found nothing.

"Alright, Christelle, it's all clear!" I shouted from the edge of the woods. I had inspected the forest for at least a dozen square miles in no time at all. Neither a sign nor a trace of anyone who would see, hear, or smell us.

"Ok, I'm coming!" she shouted back as she sprinted towards me. It was odd watching her in the sunlight; I had forgotten what it was like to not see anyone run through it without reflecting like a thousand pieces of a mirror. But she had a glow too, in her own human way, I supposed; especially with the fresh snow on the ground, the billions of ice crystals strengthening the sun's rays. It really was a beautiful day, the best of the winter so far.

"Ready?" I asked. She swallowed hard. "Are you scared?" I asked.

"Is the Pope Catholic? Of course I'm scared! I hate it when you guys do this," she said, not bothering to conceal her anxiety.

"Do you want to walk eleven miles up steep terrain?" I asked. She sighed, seeing that she had lost the argument. I crotched down low.

"Then climb on," I said. Hesitating, she slowly wrapped her legs around my back, her arms grabbing me under my arms. I could barely feel her on my back. Actually, I felt lighter somehow. I chuckled to myself.

"What's so funny?" she asked defensively.

"You're ok with living in a house with vampires, going on dangerous space missions, and living in a rancid hole with dirty humans, yet your scared a little piggy back ride." I couldn't help myself; I laughed more. She punched me in the arm, regretting it as she rubbed her hand.

"Remember what Emmett said?"

"Don't hit a vampire," she mumbled, feeling defeated. As soon as she rewrapped herself around me tightly, I took off, starting off slowly and increasing speed with each stride. She liked this method much more than taking off at top speed instantly. Still, I could tell she was scared; the faster I ran, the more she began to wimper.

"Just close your eyes," I yelled over the wind passing in our ears. I couldn't see if she listened to me or not, but she said nothing further, so I assumed that she took heed with what I said.

It was always exhilarating, running through the forest. No matter how many times I had done it in the past, I was still amazed by how much I could see at this speed. Not one rock or branch was missed by my eyes; I could probably still count the rings on a fallen tree.

In only a few minutes, we reached the top of the mountain. Even when we came to a stop, Christelle still hung on tightly to my back.

"Christelle, we're here." Her grip from my body didn't loosen. I reached around and pulled her off me and over my head. "Come on," I teased. She protested with several curt swears that sent me laughing more. But when she caught sight of the view, she instantly silenced.

Below us the earth dropped away, the face of the mountain cliff stretching for hundreds of feet. Spread out was a view of the whole valley, the city below us dotting the blinding white landscape like a pile of scattered rocks. The trees were still bare, save for a few evergreens here and there; leaving the ground looking like it was made with countless, shining crystals. The earth glowed in its icy, barren coating, beautiful and yet saddening at once, knowing that the life underneath the unforgiving blanket was struggling, hiding away for so many months. Growing up in the Amazon, where the land was frozen in a neverending summer, I always hated the winter time. The lack of life was alien, uncomfortable, despite its alluring image. It was a beautiful sight to me, but melancholy, forever missing what mademe most feel at home. But Christelle, who had never before experienced life on Earth, never seen the snow, never seen the green trees and thick growth and wild creatures, could never miss those things. She gazed in wonder everytime she went outside, her child-like curiosity always leaving her speechless at the asthetic stimulation.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see a long, flat boulder, obviously carved by hand to serve as a bench of sorts. That flat rock had been there ever since we moved here, and we always used it whenever we came up here to enjoy the view. It was the only unnatural thing for miles, save the city far below us.

"Come over," I said to her. She looked to the rock that I was walking towards. We both sat down, and just spent several minutes looking at the view. She began to cover her eyes, growing sensitive to the overpowering lights.

"See," I said, "I told you it was worth the trip."

"It's beautiful," she said quietly. "Whenever I tried to imagine what winter on Home looked like, this is always how I pictured it." She squinted her eyes tighter after a slight tilt of her head sent a powerful reflection right into her face. "Well, maybe toned down a little." She smiled. For a few moments, we sat there, absorbing the valley below, Christelle especially. It was such a quiet moment, yet there was so much to be said about moments when all you need to feel happy is just the presense of someone else. Words weren't completely necessary right then.

But Christelle, ever the loud mouth that she always was and will ever be, needed to fill the quiet peace.

"Hey, Nahuel, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, what is it?" She turned to me with a little playful smile on her face, like she was when she was about to ask a personal question.

"I've been curious. What are you afraid of?" Knew it.

I chuckled a little. "That came out of nowhere."

"Well, I've been thinking a lot lately. You're cautious, of course, more than most people, but you're not afraid of being out here, afraid of being discovered. You weren't afraid to risk your life to chase down vampires and save me. Hell, you weren't even afraid to stop Arden. So just was scares you?"

"Hmmm...William," I said with a little smile.

"Oh, I've heard stories. Terrifying," she said with slight sarcasm.

"Really, who told you?"

"Emmett," she admitted. We both laughed.

"But seriously, he's no laughing matter."

"True. But I see right through you." She kept a keen smile, but I felt my throat swell up. "You may be afraid of William, but that's not _really _what you're afraid of. No one's greatest fears are every concrete." Now, I felt uncomfortable.

I realized I didn't recall ever being asked that question. Just what did frighten me the most. It was never something I would really want to share with anyone anyway. I was already seen as timid, weak among my peers. To give them a chance to find a way to bring me into that insecurity further was not something I ever wanted. But what would it hurt to tell Christelle? She never laughed at me-well, not out of spite anyway-and besides, she had this weird ability to make me spill my guts to her. Still, I wouldn't reveal it immediately.

"Well?" she inquired. I realized I remained unresponsive for several seconds. A little embarrassed, I coughed.

"Well," I said as I cleared my throat. I rested my elbows on my knees, folding my hands and resting my chin on them. "I don't know, really."

"Come on, there must be something," she said, keeping the tone light. As I contimplated how to answer her question, my mind swam with ideas of anything that would sound like a good answer. Certainly I was afraid of a lot of concrete ideas and possibilites. But something intangible? I suppose I had those too. I had my future that I cringed thinking of, I had doubts of my own security, and I had my family I worried for, whom I loved and cared for that I felt were beginning to slowly degrade as time went on. And then it hit me so hard that I anticipated falling backwards off the bench. I realized the answer to her question, and thinking about it made my chest ache. Memories played their terrible dance, filling me with moments of exquisite joy and ages of the deepest grief.

Before I knew it, I couldn't stop my mouth from revealing what was hiding inside me.


	12. Sisters

**Perdon a me for leaving you guys hanging for so long. Homework, dance, piano, improv, choir, sketching...ok, ok, so those aren't excuses for not writing. Please don't kill me. Will you forgive me if I give you the Goodie of the Day: cherry cobbler? If not, you didn't see me....**

* * *

The beginning of the nightmare began many years ago, with the cry of three young women shouting simultaneously, "Nahuel!" My attention, focused on the nail that I was pounded into the building, snapped to the west. I knew those voices, and they were ones I never thought I would ever hear again. Something rose in my throat as I saw the dark figures racing through the street full of lumber and debris.

"Oh my god!" was all I could shout. I set-well; more like threw-down my hammer before jumping off my ladder to run to the threesome. Three against one, they force of their running knocked me over as we collided into one big hug. After to Great Disaster, I thought my sisters had disappeared, never to be heard from again. But they were alright, as beautiful and healthy as they had always appeared. It had been years since I'd seen or heard from them. Nali, the eldest, didn't actually look a day older than me or my other siblings, but a strange wisdom was etched with invisible lines into her face. Xochitl, my second oldest, had the darkest hair and eyes of all of us. My youngest sister, Paqueli, held unusual glow to her that made her always appear as if she had bronze metal etched into her skin.

"Nahuel, I can't believe we found you!" shouted Xochitl, her thick accent bubbling nostalgia of my homeland inside of me.

"I'm just glad you're all alive," I responded. I caught a brief glimpse of the people around me, some who were staring, others snickering. But at this point, I didn't care; if anyone gave us trouble, my sisters had an uncanny ability to shoot down anyone with their sharp tongues. "How'd you know where to find me?" They finally decided that we all looked ridiculous lying on the ground, so they stood up, allowing me to do so.

"Well, we didn't know where to find anyone, to be honest," Paqueli said.

"We wandered all over the Americas for some years, but we found that every major city we came across was abandoned, overtaken by animals," Nali added on quickly.

"After we gave up on those continents, we crossed over from Alaska to Russia and moved westward from there," Xochitl said. "It wasn't until Egypt that we actually ran into anyone, and they pointed us to Paris."

"Well, it's your fault for hiding out in the Amazon while everyone else got the memo." We all smiled, and I hugged my sisters more, the last of my family. I brought them back to the Cullen house, where they took up permanent residence. They certainly shook things up in the home, adding something new to the mix. We spent hours sharing stories, telling jokes, or doing whatever we the hell we felt like that day. My sisters certainly knew how to change the status quo. More than once, they challenged Jasper and Emmett, their favorite competitors, to various challenges, rating from physical to intellectual or the absolutely random. Unfortunately, their big mouths often brought them into petty arguments with the rest of the family, Nali especially. For a while, Edward was supremely irritated with her after they argued bitterly over a contest of intelligence, Nali constantly talking smack about him (and everyone else for that matter).

For a time, my whole family was together. So long had we been separated, with so little time actually together in the past, it felt like learning about each other over and over again. Each of us was inseparable. It was definitely one of my life's golden years.

That was before the revolt happened.

* * *

"What the hell?" Xochitl exclaimed when she found the note in our mailbox. Inside it was a letter made of thick, smooth, high quality parchment, rolled into a scroll and tied with a thick red ribbon. Binding it was the seal of the Volturi. "What do those three retards want with us?"

She carefully (but nevertheless, in irritation) ripped off the seal and unrolled the letter. It was covered in fancy calligraphy which held a headliner in written with large, bold letters: _Public Notice_. Never a good sign.

_Dear Cullen Family,_

_We have officially commenced the construction of the Glorious Palace, which will serve as the new location of the house of government. The presences of all members of this household have therefore been called to serve in the assistance of its production and engineering. All who join are to arrive at the site of construction in __Piazza dei Priori promptly at the hour of nine in the morning on the day of January the twelfth. We greatly appreciate your assistance._

_Sincerely,_

_Bianca de la Ruse, Secretary of Affairs_

"Well, this is ridiculous!" Xochitl declared, balling up the scroll and tossing it aside. Carlisle opened his mouth to stop her, but was unfortunately too late. "First they pass all these restrictive laws on where and when we can go anywhere, then they restrict our hunting grounds, and now they demand our labor for their own temple of ego? Who do they think they are? I'm certainly not going."

"And I'm not going either," Nali added.

"Me three," said Paqueli. Edward sighed deeply.

"Look, I understand that the three of you grew up in a world without rules or obligations, but this is Volterra, and there's a very strict government with accordance of rules. None of you can simply refuse them when they give orders."

"God, you sound like our father," Paqueli snapped. "This is simply ridiculous! I agree with Xochitl; I refuse to participate in helping those Three erect some new palace and every other public building they've asked us to fix when we're not even allowed to fix a squeaky floorboard in our own home. I won't do it."

"Guys," I said, "I agree with Edward. There's always a time to say no, but you can't just say no to the government. There are serious consequences. Maybe the Volturi won't summon you directly, but they'll certainly send William after you, and you certainly don't want to mess around with him."

"Agreed," Carlisle said, finally able to interject. "No good can certainly come out of encountering the commander and chief. Just drop it and let it go."

"Who's to say that we won't be the only ones refusing to go? You've heard the talk around the city: the possibility of rebellion, the demanding of better leadership. I say we help promote change," Nali said.

"By promoting anarchy?" Rosalie spoke up, "You three obviously don't understand the concept of a status quo."

"Come on, didn't you guys ever once refuse to go along with what you were told?" Everyone glanced at each other. I could see in their eyes what they were precisely thinking about at that instant. Jasper was the one who broke the silence.

"Can you trust us just once when we say that we have? And that it certainly didn't turn out well on our part? Please trust us on this; it's not safe to do this.

"Is this normally how your society works? Letting people tramp all over you while you watch passively?" Paqueli quipped. None of us could think of a response. We stood there for a moment, pondering our lives, assessing them to Paqueli's statement.

"Then it's settled, the three of us won't take any part in this new construction plan. If any of you still do, we won't stop you," Nali said.

"But that doesn't mean we can't give you hell about it," Xochitl added.

"Not funny," Jasper attempted to back talk, but knew that their proposals failed. No matter what any of them said, those three weren't going to follow orders. So typical of them. The conversation effectively over, all of us awkwardly dispersed, resuming to our individual activities.

That's when everything began to dissolve away.

* * *

Three days later, every one of us, save for my three sisters, had decided to go to the construction site as required. They certainly kept their word when they said they would give us hell for it. It was practically all they ever did in that time span. But that all changed with the sound of very sharp, distinctive thee knocks on our front door. In that one instant, everyone froze, but no one looked as terrified and helpless as Alice. I had never seen her so broken before. Carlisle caught her look too. Reluctantly, he paused, his gaze alternating between her and the door. Three more knocks rang; these ones were even harsher and more commanding than the previous. I could see that Carlisle wanted nothing more than to not answer that door, but his fear of what lay behind it overpowered that desire. He approached the front door, turned the knob with great care, and opened it.

My stomach flipped when I saw who was at the door. I had never seen him in person before that moment, only heard the most hideous of rumors. Tall and imposing, his figure stood in the door way like a great and terrible pillar of reprimandment. The black cloak draping down his shoulders immediately indicated to me who it was: William, the military commander of the Volturi, and head of the Department of Justice. Surrounding him were three similarly dressed men, but of obvious lower ranking. Dark visions played their terrible man in my head as I gazed at the man I knew I was destined to hate more than anyone in the world. The feelings that accompanied it almost compelled me to strike him then and there, but my mind, fortunately, was more cautious. My body barely twitched; the entire vision only took a fraction of a second.

"Is this the house of the Cullens?" he asked in a polite, but strong voice, impelling one to always his questions, lest it turn into something far less polite.

"Yes," Carlisle said in his most subordinate voice. "Is there a problem, sir?"

"As a matter of fact, yes," he pulled out an official looking document, his long thin fingers like claws as they held up the paper near his face. "It has been brought to your attention that three members of this household have refused to participate in the required community service as we specifically mentioned in the letter sent to every household in the area. May I see Nali, Xochitl, and Paqueli, please?" he butchered their names, and from the tone of his voice, on purpose too. I silently prayed in my head that they would come to the door, but before I could finish a sentence in my head, the three of them were there.

"May we help you?" Nali asked. Her words could have passed as polite, but William could detect the faint sarcasm in her words

"Well, you could start by explaining to us why you refused to participate in the construction of the new Volturi palace?" he asked with restrained monotone. The muscles in his face were perfectly still, only his lips moving to speak. _Please don't say a word, please be polite, please don't back talk…_

"Because we refused to," Nali said firmly. Xochitl and Paqueli nodded in agreement, holding their heads high. There was a flicker in their eyes: fear? But even as they stood there, they held the appearance of courage, far more than what I could have done. William sighed

"Well, that presents…a problem."

"Well, we're sorry that we couldn't help erect this monument dedicated to the Volturi's egos," Xochitl snapped. My muscles twitched, my head cringed; everyone else's did as well. William cocked his eyebrow.

"Would you like to repeat that, vermin?" he said, leaning down to look Xochitl directly in the eye. She managed to hold her own, her eyes defiant and angry.

"She said that we didn't want any part of your ridiculous ordinances," Paqueli stepped in. I struggled to speak, trying to think of a way of making this already impossible situation any better. My eyes glanced at Alice, whose face could have made the angels weep. No, it couldn't be.

"Are you sure it's your wish to go against the Volturi, who are currently leaders of the entire world? Are you sure that's really the smart thing to do?" He put his hand to Paqueli's chin, forcing her to look him in the eye. Nali pushed his hand away. He flinched, as if disgusted by her touch.

"Don't touch her," she said. It was all she needed to do to firmly declare to William that they weren't going to back down. I had to do something, to say anything. But I couldn't move my body; my legs paralyzed and my muscles froze. In that brief span of time where no one and nothing moved or breathed, William glared menacingly at my three sisters, before his lips curled slowly into a subtle, cruel smile that instantly drained the hope from one's veins.

"I think that we have everything we need. Gentlemen," he said, addressing the guards behind him, who stiffened to attention with sharp efficiency, "kindly escort these ladies out of the house." He turned his eyes back to them once more, his gaze penetrating deep into you very sanity, but his eyes possessed no depth themselves, like two opaque pools of black acid. My sisters suddenly stiffened, their faces turning from expressions of defiance to placid calm. They nodded their heads, the consciousness in their eyes clouded with blind confusion. Without restraint, they joined William's guards, their minds belonging to him. My mind connected with my body as they were led outside. But before I could run, one of William's guards turned his eyes to the room. A different sort of paralysis swept over me, one which I was aware of my muscles, and felt them move and flex, but my bones were in a gridlock, unable to move. Turing my eyes, I saw that everyone else was frozen one spot. Their faces were in agony, as I'm sure mine appeared. With every fiber and meaning in my body, I willed my joints to move, to stop William, to save my sisters. But it wasn't enough, and I still remained motionless, screaming without being able to open my mouth. There was the rustle of an unnatural wind, leaves overturned outside, and in a single instant, William, his guards, and my sisters vanished.

That was the last time I saw them alive.

* * *

"So, my answer is death. I suppose I fear the death…of others…the most," I confessed to Christelle. She remained silent for several seconds. Her breathing was slow and steady, the sound of her heart like a low drum. Wind blew in her hair. I inhaled, taking in her warm, tender scent, so long absent in our home. But I wasn't hungry, not now anyway. She chuckled awkwardly, if only to break the silence.

"An odd phobia for a vampire, don't you think?" she said, half-smiling. Something inside of me stirred, and I chuckled too. Then it turned into light laughter. Christelle began laughing more too. Before I knew it, I was practically in hysterics, my laughter almost insane, as if I couldn't control it anymore. She stopped laughing, but it took me several seconds to realize this. I saw her face, looking confused and a little disturbed. I caught myself, and composed my energy as quickly as I could. But this only made her laugh more. It seemed like an eternity before we were calm enough to speak.

"Well," she said, "looks like we found something else in common." I was a little taken aback by her words, but not really surprised.

"Yeah, I guess so." We sat in silence for another inconceivable span of time, watching to snow glow a little too brightly, like millions of pieces of shattered glass. The wind began to pick up, sharp to inhale. The entire seen was beginning to seem like a terrible beauty.

"Can you promise me something?" I asked suddenly, surprised at myself for speaking so spontaneously. I swallowed, nervous that my mouth moved faster than my mind. But she didn't catch this twitch, and acted like I asked any other question.

"Sure, what?" she said casually, though it was easy to see that she was listening intently. I turned to her, and mustering all my courage, uttered a request that had been on my mind the entire time we were on that precipice.

"Promise you'll be careful," I said. Her silvery-gray eyes glued to mine, freezing my lungs from inhalation as I anticipated her answer.

"You have my word," she said in all seriousness. "And can you promise me something?

"Yeah, what?"

"Please inform me if I'm doing anything stupid and dangerous." I laughed.

"Just know when to say what and when, and you'll be ok, don't worry." Even as I kept my voice calm and composed, I still knew that I had every excuse to worry. Before me was this girl, so strong and powerful and yet so weak and temporary. So many whom I've loved had been taken from me, and as I sat there with her upon that peak, a haunting and sickening truth crept through my skin: one day, one month, one year, or however many years from now, this beacon in my life will one day be extinguished, taken away and vanishing from sight like paper as it burns to ash. One day, this beautiful girl will be nothing but bones, and still further down, even those bones will crumble away. And what of me? What am I supposed to do in the future, as her life slips away and her body disintegrates before my very eyes? My heart, though it beat profusely, grinding through my ribs, felt as broken and scattered as the glassy ice that blanketed the valley. If she remained until hear imminent death, at least her life will be fulfilled, but after she dies, I'll remain as I had been most of my life, lacking. Was this the cruel punch-line to this new chapter of my life? Fate has a way of rubbing its palms together, planning out tortures to inflict upon the unsuspecting creatures under its inescapable watch.

Her eyebrows crinkled. "Are you ok?" she asked. My head snapped back to reality.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I said erasing any sign of disturbance on my face. "Come on, let's go back. It's a little too much out here in this weather, for you, anyway."

"Agreed. All this scenery is a little overwhelming. But thanks so much for bringing me out here. I really appreciate it."

"Anytime," was all I could muster to say, my mind turning back to those horrible thoughts that I couldn't rid of from my mind. Even as we ran down the mountain, even with all the stimuli in the world to distract me from myself, I couldn't relieve myself of the wrenching speculations dancing in my head, counting down the potential years, days, hours left before I wouldn't ever hear her laugh again.


	13. Freeze in Time

**Hey everyone. Well, not much to say except enjoy with the Goodie of the Day: Junior Mint Brownies**

* * *

My mind knew no rest. I needed a distraction, badly, from my racing thoughts. Every time I blinked, the demon of fear displayed various scenes of Christelle, cold, dead, and lifeless, permanently. I couldn't focus. Trying to eliminate this morbid vision, I spent more time for the remainder of February with Christelle than before, filling my mind with her vitality. I showed her around the woods, played games with her and the rest of the family, wrote silly songs on the piano with her. But no matter how lively and happy this period of life was, I couldn't shake that image of her lifeless, aged, wrinkled body out of my head. I needed this idea of her as deceased and breathless out of my mind, replaced with an image as someone happy, someone who loved to live.

So I left the house and retreated to my cove, filled with scattered statues and tools. I examined several of stones in my stockpile collection, but none felt suitable. I needed something big, grand, something you couldn't miss, something you wouldn't want to miss. I was quickly off to the large cliff side only a mile away, tools in hand, to chip away a large chunk of the precipice. After cutting out the right size block, I carried it over to the grove where I usually worked.

Placing the great stone in front of me, I assessed it, trying to determine the best course of action. Simply looking at it with eyes alone does not tell me where to start or where to end; to figure out what I want out of the rock, I need to figure what I wanted out of myself. I wanted absolute brilliance; I wanted this to be my best work, something unforgettable and irriplaceable. My fingers flexed, ready to move as soon as my mind gave the command. So I closed my eyes, raising my hands to the stone. My mind focused on counteracting the images that I certainly never wanted to think about, and forced them out with as many memories of a more vibrant, happy Christelle. The images in my mind were always better than in actuality, as all memories are, but there was a beautiful truth in them that I desired to capture in an instant. I sought the most radiant, lively, warm image of her I could find. It came to me more quickly than I expected; Christmas morning, when she received my little, kind of unimpressive gift. In that one instant, she looked happier than I'd ever seen her. There was a hope in her eyes, a belief that better times were to come ahead, a longing for the past but a new awakening to the future ahead. For a few moments, I drowned in that thought. I opened my eyes, the outline etched with invisible lines into the white stone. My hands began to work away, transferring that instant from my head to my hands.

Within an hour, I was able to physically see what was forming out of the rock. Her silhouette was already beginning to take shape; she was portrayed standing up, with her hair moving as if in a perpetual breeze. There was her deep, intuitive eyes and strength that showed in the pose she appeared to be in: she was standing with her arms by her side in a very natural way, with an energy that needed to be defined more. But as I looked into the face, I realized there was something odd about it. Granted, it was far from finished, but something about it made me feel like starting over again. It wasn't as if there was something wrong, just something…lacking.

Still, I felt confident that I knew what I was going to do. Perhaps if I spent a few more hours on it, I would see what that was. So I carefully placed the large chisel by her arms and began to chip away excess material, determined to make this right.

I would do it right for her.

The hours trickled by as I examined and carved minute details into the surface of the statue, not letting any aspect go without inspection. Most of the time, my hand wasn't even in contact with the stone; I let my eyes do most of the work, observing every microscopic rivet and every time aspect that could be changed, improved. It was beginning to take real resemblance to her. She was smiling softly, not in a state of laughter; no, it was a smile of true happiness, of contemplation, of wisdom, of joy. Her eyes, wide and entrancing, took on another meaning entirely. They seemed to say, "I know what you're thinking" or "I know what I need to do", things that she always thought but never said.

I briefly paused what I was doing, and stepped back to look at the statue as a whole, retreating from details. I smiled briefly at the progress I made in only a few hours. But that happiness turned immediately into a frown when I realized something was very, very wrong with this image. But I couldn't pick out what it was. Her features seemed to be in the correct proportions, nothing to short, too long, nothing jutting out or sinking in where it wasn't supposed to. The expression matched the idea I was going for. So what was it? Whatever it was, it irritated me immensely. The entire picture was wrong, so wrong. It looked just like Christelle, granted, but in some unknown way to me, I didn't look like her at all. Puzzled, and my frustration building, I re-examined every angle, making sure that there was nothing I missed. I found nothing wrong with it technically, but I found everything wrong with it overall.

I cursed loudly at it, which felt stupid to me, but I didn't care. I couldn't help it; no matter how many angles I analyzed, or minute chippings I corrected, this cold Galatea stared at me as if laughing at my efforts.

What the hell was wrong with it?! My irritated mounted with every vain second I stared at it, my mind aching from not blinking. As far as I was concerned, I had never felt this frustrated over a piece of artwork. Granted, I had often been a little irritated if something didn't look right, but I had never felt this enraged over it. More than angry at the statue, I was angry at myself for getting so worked up. It was just a stupid statue after all. No, it was far more than that; this was going to be my most important work. It couldn't have _any_ flaws.

I paced back and forth, trying to calm myself down. It did calm me down, but the sound of wet snow crunching against my feet did nothing to slow my racing mind, tracing over the surface of it again and again and again. And after several minutes, I could conclude…nothing.

"Shit," I spat. Now, the haunting nightmares in my head crept back with retributive force, accompanied by this new worry of mine. Couldn't I ever give it a break? Maybe that was the best course of action. If I left it alone and came back to it, perhaps my course of action would be clearer. So, even though a large percentage of me desired to stay longer and continue, my logic soon overrode any need to stay, and before I knew it, I was in a full on run towards the house.

I slowed once the white estate was in full view in the clearing. The wind was blowing in my direction, carrying with it the sounds of the house and the smell of the woods around me. I heard talk in the house, faint, but clear. It was Bella and Christelle, sharing a simple, everyday conversation. Just hearing her sent waves of frustration once more. If I needed a distraction from my work, I would definitely not be in the house. What I really needed to do was get away for a few hours, perhaps into town.

Within only a moment's thought, I ran towards downtown Paris before any other thought could stop me. The city was its usual somber atmosphere, its simple, colorless buildings reflecting gray light on the streets below. A thin fog hung low on the street, the air stoic and cold. Few people were visible, and anyone that was present walked about without any real purpose, wondering aimlessly to a destination they weren't sure existed. No one looked at any of the passerby; mostly they hung their heads low as they glided down the empty paths. There was one man; Derrick was his name, who sat on the stoop of one of the buildings, plucking at the strings of a tattered homemade guitar, not playing a specific song, more like he was dawdling about. Perhaps this wasn't the smartest place to be to clear my mind of sad thoughts, or to wait out for while. My steps directed me towards Arden's house. No doubt, he always livened the deadest of days.

I rest my case. Arden had company over, a cocktail party of sorts it sounded like, with a live jazz quartet playing. From the number of footsteps I could hear from outside the front door, I estimated about fifteen people were over. Arden opened the door before I even knocked, holding a glass of red wine in his hands.

"Hey, man, what's up?"

"What's up? You throw a party and you don't even invite me?" I asked jokingly. He looked slightly victimized.

"Hey, I went over to see if you were home, but apparently you had alone time that was more important than me," he said smirking. "Come on it; it's just a couple of people." Accepting the invitation, I stepped into a relatively casual affair. No one was dressed extremely elegant, just classy. I recognized Johanna, Arden's current girlfriend (again) attach to his hip when he re-entered the room. Emiliana was there too, not looking particularly pleased at Johanna. There was also Sebastian and David, but other than that it was a crowd of people I only knew by face and name.

Arden brought me over to a group of girls that I surmised he had been previously talking to. Of course, they were the most…well endowed girls in the room, just befitting to Arden's taste. I recognized them; there was Lily, the red head; Adia the petite one; and Mihoko, the one with black, pin-straight hair. Arden gestured his hand towards me.

"Ladies, you all know Nahuel, right?" Ugh, I hated it when he put me on the spot like this. Most guys would be thrilled to be surrounded by the likes of them, but I felt nothing but discomfort; something about this didn't feel right, like I was attached to a tight coil and pulled towards them, but wanting to spring away.

"We're acquainted," Lily said, giving a bat of her eyes. Arden had helped me study women for years, yet I still never really understood what they could find sexy in me. Maybe it was the natural tan. She was attractive, no doubt, and from what I already knew of her, she wasn't a bad person, but at the moment that was the least of what was on my mind. But I smiled politely anyway, trying to absorb myself in the distraction from my other problems. I didn't matter anyway; I foresaw that none of these women would ever get beyond the title of acquaintances with me.

"Yeah, how've you been?" I asked, making friendly conversation.

"I'm doing just fine," she said sweetly. Mihoko, gave a look, the one that girls give whenever they're secretly competing against each other. Figures, if these girls were bachelorettes, they were probably tired of not settling down. Most of the girls were like this; when a vampire finds a mate, they never separate. Not finding someone is a very frustrating route, especially anyone with potential was taken, or else no longer existing. Mihoko jumped into the conversation.

"But what about you? I heard about some shakeup you had with the Man a month ago."

"Yeah, but don't worry about it too much; it's all good now."

"You're really brave to go against him, you know," Adia said, jumping the talk-to-Nahuel-bandwagon. My eyes shifted towards Arden, looking for support here. He was the charming one, I was the awkward one. But low and behold, he had already left for another group, leaving me to fly solo. So typical of him.

"Well, thanks, but I have to beg to differ," hoping to turn them down, but it only seem to make them more interested to find a way to drag out the conversation. "For now, I just want to relax and forget the whole thing." I knew immediately that I should have rethought my choice of words.

"Well, you came to the right place to relax," Lily said, blinking gently. God, could she be any more obvious? In my peripheral vision, I could see Arden smirking. Great.

"Are you sure you don't want a drink?" she said, leaning in. The rest of the girls followed suit. Seriously, what sort of desperate women did Arden leave me with?

"I'm sure," I said, taking a step back, brushing my hand in a sweeping motion to emphasize my point. Big mistake. My hand barely skimmed a passerby carrying a full glass of wine. The arm pulled away fast, just hastily enough to spill its oozing contents onto my shirt. Crap. Everyone looked for a moment, and then turned their heads away, giggling. For any vampire to do something clumsy was unheard of, a joke. Guess I'm the permanent exception with my "unusual origin".

"Oh, sorry, dude," the guy with the drink said, not really looking at me.

"Ah, great," I muttered under my breath.

"Do you need help cleaning that up?" Mihoko said in a thick voice. She traced a finger along the stain, and licked the finger ever briefly. Now this was just down right disturbing. But then again, I must have been the strangest man alive (technically) to not have been drawn in by this.

"It's ok, I'll just go rinse off in the other room," I said, backing away a few steps before turning around and walking towards the back rooms, away from the center of activity. I entered the main washroom, lit some candles, and examined the red splotch all over my white shirt. It wasn't as bad as I thought it was, it was worse. I sighed heavily, knowing there was know way this would ever come out completely. Still, I would wipe it up as best as I could before heading back home.

My eyes only took a second to locate the nearest towel, hanging on a large and strangely sharp hook hanging off of the wall. Several more seconds were spent wetting, washing, patting, scrubbing, all useless attempts to remove the stain that was now an ugly pink color. Frustrated, I flicked at the faucet with my hand, twisting it a little to the left.

_Click_.

A small noise, so quiet I was sure a human would have probably missed it. But it didn't miss my attention, which turned towards the opposite wall. A hole in the plaster opened, revealing a small, dark tunnel. In the dim lighting, I could barely see the expertly hidden outline of the opening, fitting perfectly with the patters of the geometric wallpaper. My head turned towards the door, listening for anyone that might have also heard the wall creak open. But no one else was in the hallway; they all continued to chatter away with each other, not a change in the atmosphere.

Normally, I never pride into anyone else's business, but somehow knowing that Arden had a secret passage was too good to pass up. Giving one last visual and audio check, I crept towards the small opening and slipped inside, feeling a little like Alice in Wonderland. I closed the portal door behind me, knowing that I would be able to find my way back without problem. The walls were smooth, though definitely made of earth, like it was only used occasionally, and were just wide enough that both of my hands could touch the sides. It seemed to be tall enough for a man at least six feet high to pass with ease. There was no light, but it wasn't a problem for my eyes, at least not then. It immediately led to a short flight of stairs beneath me. I couldn't feel any other passage way or any adjoining corridors, just this one long hallway that went underground.

So I kept walking. But even after five minutes, there was still no sign of this tunnel ending. There wasn't anything else down here, nothing jutting out of the walls, no torches, nothing. What was the purpose of this whole thing? I broke into a run, feeling the walls the entire time. I was depending on them entirely to guide me. Vampires don't have glow in the dark vision; we are just acutely sensitive to light. Even in the darkest night, without any moon, some light always passes through. But here, away from the glows of city lights or stars, there was no light whatsoever. It was such an odd feeling, this blindness, something I'd never experienced before.

But I wasn't scared, and why should I have been? What I was most worried was the fact that Arden even _had_ something like this, something he obviously didn't want anyone else to know about. What was its purpose, and where did it lead? On top of that, I was pissed that he knew something that he felt he couldn't share with me.

I stopped, realizing that I heard someone in the distance. On top of that, the very faintest of light was visible. I ran faster to the source, while trying as hard as I could to remain as silent as possible, something I wasn't good as in comparison to a full-blooded vampire, but exponentially better than someone like Christelle. _Christelle_. No, I couldn't think about her now.

My steps slowed as I strained to listen. I could, at this point, only pick up bits of words of the person's whispers. But the closer I moved, the greater the possibility that I would be discovered. Still, the need to get to the core of this overwhelmed my logic. So, placing my feet airily onto the soil beneath my shoes, without so much as disturbing a single rock, I advanced towards my goal. The voice grew clearer, and it became clear that he was talking to another person. But where was the sound of that other person's voice? As far as I could hear, only one soul was speaking.

"…I'm so close." My ears became hyper alert when I heard the first completely comprehensive words within this crevice of the earth. So I moved closer, as a predator moves to avoid detection of its prey. I was ready to consume every word heard on this occasion. Just where did this tunnel connect to? I could now see the faint light traced in the outline of a perfect square, the other side of the tunnel. The return of even a single wavelength of light was most welcome, coming out of a darkness so thick and suffocating I could cut it with a knife. From my estimate, I was approximately twenty yards away from the closed portal. This would be close enough. Another step, and my beating heart and expanding lungs most certainly would have given me away. Not moving a muscle, I listened with all the intent stored in my body.

"…just need that one extra element."

The voice was alone, speaking to himself. It was most definitely a man, and very familiar to me, but it was too low, too quiet for me to properly place the identity of the observed person in question. So I listened harder, in vain, straining to pick up anything that indicate the speaker's identity, which ran such a familiarity within my blood that I felt as if I knew the answer subconsciously, but consciously.

"…What am I supposed to do, Esme? It's so frustrating…"

_Esme? _Wait_, Carlisle?_ Something foul tasted in the back of my throat. What the hell was this? A random underground tunnel connecting Arden's house to _mine?_ Now I ceased to breath, and forced my body to slow my heartbeat as I listened with more attention than I thought was physically possible for me.

"If Providence is on my side, it'll all be over before summer…" There was an audible sigh, followed by the creak of a wooden chair, the clink of test tubes, and the fizzing of chemicals. A potent, musky smell wafted through the air quickly. So this tunnel connected to Carlisle's lab, no less? What the hell was going on? Carlisle and Arden were acquaintances, but not friends, not at all. No, perhaps it was carved years ago, and they didn't know it. But that idea was ridiculous; the place was clean, free of cobwebs and insects, and the walls were polished rather smoothly. No, this place had been made and used recently, most likely often, and most likely by more than two people. Though the air was stale, now that I thought about it, I could pick up faint traces of the presence of other creatures that walked through here recently. I'm sure there could be another perfect explanation as to why Carlisle's lab and Arden's house were interconnected, I just couldn't think of any. None of this made any logical sense.

My legs carried me to the portal before my mind could protest. At the time, I didn't think of the consequences, I only approached to door, and pushed it open, filled with the need to find out the truth. With a quick push, the small door swung open, revealing Carlisle's spotless laboratory. Though I knew it was impossible for him to have been caught by surprise, his jaw still hung slightly open, his arms stiff, tense, his body not moving at all as he clenched two beakers in his hand, threatening to break them. The muscles in my face clenched; I couldn't guess what expression was on my face. There was a thick silence, broken by a strange blue liquid fizzing in the beaker in his left hand.

"N-Nahuel," he said, breaking the suffocating silence first. He voice cracked, unbelieving, "I-"

"What is this?" I asked, surprised and angry at myself by how unrestrained the words tumbled past my lips. He struggled for words.

"I can explain," he began, but cut himself short. Both of us knew that whatever explanation he had, it would be neither convincing nor satisfying. So I decided to put that out of our minds and into the open.

"Explain why there's a tunnel connecting your lab to Arden's?" I asked incredulously. His lips pressed into a hard line. He sighed deeply, and then set the beakers on the table beside him, freeing his hands. He folded them, raising them to the level of his chest. He looked like he was warring in his mind the right choice of words, but nothing sounded to right to him. His mouth stuttered without making a sound. He eventually gave up, and relaxed his hands, putting them inside the pockets of his coat. "I can't tell you," he said quietly, coldly. Naturally, I was a little offended. But more than that, I never thought of Carlisle as one of those people who kept secrets. He was always so open about everything, and I couldn't image why he would feel the need to hide something from me, or the whole family for that matter.

But his face, still and determined, assured me that he would be firm in his lack of an answer; I was never going to get anywhere if I kept asking questions.

"Fine," I said, bitterly admitting defeat, "if you won't tell me, I'm sure Arden will," I said, turning towards the open hole in the wall.

"He won't tell you anything either," he said, stopping my in my tracks. Now I was agitated, and I turned to face my father.

"So you are hiding something?" I said, walking close enough for our faces to be inches from each other, facing him down. But he never faltered, never changed expression.

"It's like I said, he wouldn't tell you anything." His eyes didn't look away from mine, he didn't blink, didn't move a muscle. He wasn't lying to me.

"Alright, then," I said, backing away from his face and stomping towards the basement stairs. "I don't know what's going on, and if you won't tell me, I understand. But I'm pissed that you need to keep stuff from us."

"I'm doing it for your benefit," he quickly protested, "and for everyone else's safety." He silenced me there. His expression was cold, unsympathetic, an expression that was so unlike Carlisle, so much so that for a moment, I had the insane wonder if it was even really Carlisle I was looking at. But it was undoubtedly him, no question about it, but he had altered, changed.

I knew since Esme and Jasper's deaths that he was never the same, but it was in such subtle ways. For the most part, he kept the same face, the same smile. But if you observed him closely, the differences became clearer. He grew distant, lacked enthusiasm for life, no longer read; only staying in his lab for hours upon hours, sometimes even days without reappearing. This was the first time I had truly seen his altered self etched upon his face. The image burned in my mind, haunting it. I looked away, unable to stare at his icy expression any longer, and marched up the stairs, slamming the door behind me.


	14. Intruder

**Whew, sorry about the immense delay from this last chapter. It may not seem like it, but this a chapter I've really been wanting to write for a long time. I hope you enjoy it. Happy Thanksgiving. Enjoy it with the Goodie of the Day: Pumpkin Pie.**

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Carlisle didn't emerge from his lab for three days. When he arose from the basement doors, he walked slowly, dully, with his head looking straight forward, purposeful but empty. He nodded once to everyone, excluding me, before marching out of the house. He returned the next day, his body smelling of the woods and a fresh hunt. Without another word or notion that he recognized us, he descended once more into his lab, not to be seen for another week.

I had made the decision not to speak to Arden, though I heavily considered it at first. I knew Carlisle was right; if Arden had something he didn't want anyone to know, he was going to make sure it stayed buried.

Life continued, as it always does. The atmosphere grew tense; everyone could sense the elephant in the room, though no one addressed it. I remained outside as much as possible. Whenever I was in the house, my head would always creep towards the direction of Carlisle's lab, if only for a split second.

By now it was March, and the snow was melting, the signs of spring peering from their oppressive, cold sheets; the grass, against all odds, rising to the occasion of the sun and warmth; the dead, against all odds, coming back to life. All seasons, especially spring, fascinates me. Where I'm from, the only seasons are rainy and rainier. It never failed to surprise me, all of the seemingly impossible ways life is reborn with more vigor than before.

It was a morning just like any other, that one particular morning.

"Hey," Christelle said as she approached me on the couch while I was reading a novel off of the new computer.

"Hey, what's up?" I asked as I placed down the handheld device.

"I was thinking about going for a walk up north, where there's that flat land, you know," she suggested. How could I say no?

"Sure, I have no problem with that, let's head out." We walked outside of the front door into the cool open air. The smell of early spring stung my nose, and my feet grew wet from the abundance of slush around. The land was covered in a thick mist, and the sun shone brightly, blinding the both of us. She climbed on my back, something she did with much less anxiety or hesitation nowadays. I took off slowly at first, as I always did with her, but soon broke into my fastest sprint. The ground was wet and slippery, but even that wasn't going to be much trouble for me, just uncomfortable. She hugged my back tightly, shielding herself from the cold air whipping at her face. We ran for about five minutes before we were 12 miles away, in the chilly, flat area away from the hillier region around the city.

"Stop here," she said, and I cruised to a stop. We had arrived in an place I hadn't seen in years. It was the remains of what used to be a city, covered in tall, unnatural mounds that used to be buildings, nature having crumbled their foundation and vines intertwining with the rusted steel supports and deteriorated plaster that had all but disintigrated into nothing. The streets were still grid-like, cobblestones were even still visible, but nature, over that last fifteen decades, had begun to slowly eat away all traces that humanity had ever existed here. It devoured it, covering every surface with nothing to hold it back. Give it another twenty years, maybe thirty, and all traces of the city were bound to be obliterated, as if nothing ever was there before the tangled branches and thick undergrowth.

It was even mistier here, and the sun shone so intensely that even I was bothered by it. It was colder, and far quieter, with no sound but the wind. Spring had not quite emerged as prominently here as it did at my house; it felt more in the dark, inclined to cling onto winter with every last ounce of its strenght. I couldn't see why anything in nature would want to hold onto its worse moments. It just seemed...unnatural.

"I'd told you that I'd been here before, right?" Christelle asked as she approached one of the massive mounds of earth. She touched it, brushing of wet snow and pulling away vegetation, revealing a rusted grid of metal, twisted and deformed. She eyed it with deep interest, scanning the surface and studying every intricacy she could see. Her face was calm and intent, focusing hard, carefully feeling every leaf under her fingers. She uncovered another mound, revealing stone underneath, dull bricks so worn that it looked like a French roll bread loaf.

"Yeah, you did once. It doesn't seem like somewhere you'd go for fun."

"Whatever, I like it," she said, her eyes not once losing focus. A branch snapped somewhere in the distance, but then a peaceful silence fell over once more. Undisturbed, the ruined structures retuned once more to their quiet existence. The wind was cool and steady, blowing her hair gently, wafting her scent over to me as I breathed it in deeply. I was rare that she spent much time outside the house, away from the technology that took the pleasure of her fragrance away from me. It was lovely, not in the least bit tempting.

Turning away from the mound, she walked towards my side. "Come with me." We walked along the empty streets, not really saying anything. I think both of us were captured by city, beautiful in a strange, alien way. I could see it clearly, how the city would have looked all those years ago. The streets clean and even. The smell of food and drink in the air. The sound of laughing children and conversing adults. Music playing on street corners. It had been a while since I'd seen a sight like that.

"It's hard to believe," Christelle said, "that this was once a real city."

"I was thinking the same thing," I retorted.

"But I mean, this city once had life. People lived here, and they had families here," she mused to herself. Her face was nostalgic, far away from the here and now. "But...they're all dead now." This comment took me by surprise.

"You're awfully morbid today," I teased, but her words struck soundly.

"I just wish I could have seen Earth before it all happened. It must be nice to remember the world when it was nicer than this."

"I don't know," I said, "I think the world now is actually better."

"Really? How so?"

"Hmmm, no wars, no poachers...no Walmart overconsumerism." She looked confused. "Nevermind," I said. A sudden gust of wind blew through us, and she shivered despite her many layers of clothes. The wind died as suddenly as it came, and all was still, an eerie, unsettling stillness. The only sound was our beating hearts, hers slower than mine but much stronger. Hers was the only true sign of life here in this forgotten place. I couldn't think of those mounds as anything alive, only skeletons of what had once been, of what could have been. She turned back to me, her eyes gentle and curious. I wondered if she wanted me to say something, but she smiled and turned her attention back towards the road ahead, not keeping her eyes on any particular point.

In the far distance, I heard a faint, continuous whoosh. I briefly wondered if it was the approaching wind, or the sound of a distant river, but it was too odd of a sound to be made by either of those things, the pitch too high and acute. My head looked toward the sky, where I suspected it came from. The morning sun filled my eyes with a blinding light, throwing off my vision of the expanse of blue and white before me. I scanned over every cloud, looking into and through the thin, transparent fibers.

"Did you hear that?" I asked.

"No," she said, her voice distant, her mind in a world that no longer existed.

"Listen," I said. She paused, closing her eyes. She breathed deeply, then opened them.

"I hear it." She followed my lead and began scanning the sky as well, squinting hard against the bright morning sun reflecting off the fog.

Suddenly, a tiny, black dot caught my eye, moving quickly across the sky, growing larger.

"There," I pointed, "do you see that?" Her eyes narrowed more until they were slivers, black outlining gray. Her eyebrows contorted into curiosity and wonder.

"What is that?" she said, her voice trailing off to a whisper. For a minute or so, it remained fuzzy to both of us, but its outline began to form quickly after that. It was silver color, sleek, and large.

"Can you see what it is yet? It's still a dot to me," Christelle said.

"I think…I think it's a ship." It had to be: the dot was metallic silver, moving through the sky faster than any bird, and with precision and elequence. Who the hell could that be? Depending on who was traveling inside that capsule, this whole situation could end very badly.

"I see it now," she said. "Who the hell is that?" she mused, as confused as I was. We said nothing to each other as the ship, quietly and swiftly descending to the earth. Its shine reflected the sky around it, making it relatively invisible, almost transparent. I estimated its landing point to be a mile or so north of here, about where Christelle's first ship had landed. No doubt the traveler was basing his point of destination on that information. The wind began to pick up once more, disturbing the otherwise languid forest we were in. The ship, alien and strange, daunted us overhead, hovering silently like a watchful bird. As it grew closer, its outline formed clearer, sharper details, the sunlight reflecting off of its smooth surface casting powerful beams of sunlight in my eyes, blinding me further than I already was. Christelle remained silent throughout the waiting, her eyes not blinking once, despite the intensity of the light in her face.

At last, the ship lowered into the forest, blocking its view from us.

"Should we go check it out?" I whispered to her. She clenched her jaw, her lips tightening into a line, though her eyes were calm and contemplative. Her hand opened and flexed several times. Her heartbeat slowed.

"Can't we just stay here?" she asked, her voice full of worry. "I don't think we need to go."

"Um, Christelle, I'm not sure that's a good idea. Whoever that is in there is unprotected here. We have to help them."

"Just, just wait a moment," she said, sounding a little exasperated.

"Christelle, what's wrong with you today?" I asked, bewildered. She turned her head, avoiding looking at me in the eye. Before I realized what I was doing, my fingers lifted her chin. Her gray eyes pierced me, surprised as much as I was with myself. Her lips tightened again.

"I—what do you want me to do?" she said, suddenly accusing me.

"I don't know. Tell me why you're being like this." Her eyebrows narrowed for a second, but then relaxed. She brushed my hand off her chin gently.

"I just…I don't know how to handle this. What am I supposed to say to whoever is in that ship? They'll see that I've told them nothing but lies." She looked defeated, torn. She hugged me tightly, startling me, but I returned it.

"But we can't leave whoever is there alone. We have to help them."

"I just wish I had a plan."

"Christelle without a plan, what I concept," I chuckled.

"Not funny," she said with a smile. I held her sides, and she looked up.

"Just relax. I mean, did Bella handle meeting you for the first time well?" She laughed again.

"She didn't see me coming," she pointed out.

"True." She looked away from me again. "Don't worry, we'll figure this out, and all of us will be there to back you up." Her face looked up to mine, and she nodded with a smile.

"Ok," she said, calming down. "Then let's go."

"No prob," I said. Faster than she could blink, I swept her off the ground and onto my back. She gasped in surprised, but then relaxed once more. In less than twenty seconds, we completed the mile. I stopped and lowered her down carefully. About thirty yards away, in a small clearing, was the same sleek silvery ship that Christelle came in, contrasting sharply against the forest backdrop, alien and foreign. From what my senses told me, there was only one person, a male I was sure, and they had not left the ship quite yet.

"There's just one person in it," I whispered to her.

"Let's wait until he comes out," she whispered back. It hardly took any time at all before a hiss could be heard from the ship door. We quickly crouched down behind a bush, peaking over to keep watching. It opened slowly, the stale air pouring out of it which instantly wafted to my nostrils. A young man stood at the doorway wearing a gas mask. He was tall, muscular, no older than I was; well, by appearance anyway. He looked around, a ray gun like Christelle's in his hand. I turned to Christelle: she had a shocked look on her face. She had to have known him. She slowly stood up, revealing herself from behind the bush.

"What are you doing?" I asked through clenched teeth, but it didn't stop her. Her face still in shock, she walked out into the clearing. The boy's head turned sharply towards her, his ray gun pointed and ready. But he hesitated, his eyes widened with shock as well. He removed his gas mask, revealing his secrets. My fists clenched, a low growl arose from my throat.

"Christelle?" he asked, bewildered. His mouth trembled, stumbling over what to say. She turned towards me, and gave me a quick nod. Trusting her, I revealed myself as well. He put up the ray gun once more in my direction.

"No, George! He's with me," she said. His gun was head steady for a few more seconds, and then he lowered it slowly and with strain. He stepped down off of the ship and walked towards us in disbelief. Both of us advanced as well. Christelle started to walk faster, then jog, and then run straight towards him. When she reached him, she hugged him violently. "You came!" she exclaimed happily. I bit my tongue.

"I'm just amazed you're alive. I was so sure you were dead," he said. They embraced, but he abruptly broke it and his expression was suddenly incredulous. "I mean, you never answered my calls. And…" he looked around the clearing more closely, "what is this?" he gestured.

"What's what?" she asked, not sure what he meant.

"I mean, why is there…anything here? I thought you said everything was still dead, that there was no hope," his voice rose slightly. He locked eyes with me. "And you told me there wasn't anyone else alive." Her mouth gaped, speechless. His face searched for answers in hers, but she gave none.

"I lied," she finally whispered, "I lied to protect everyone."

"From what, Christelle?" Now he was clearly angry. "First you tell us there's no hope of re-colonizing, then you tell us you've brought back the last humans on Earth, then you leave and I never hear of you again. I didn't know what happened to you! I came back to find you. And now you're here, in a clearly healed Earth with someone who looked nothing like the people you brought to the Station. Just what is going on?" Her eyes were wide with shock. From here face, I could see that she had never seen him this angry before. I didn't like the way he was looking at her, the way he was speaking to her, like all of this was _her _fault. My mouth tasted metallic again, but not because of the smell of the ship.

"P-please, George. If you come with us, I swear I'll explain everything. But we can't stay out here. Go, grab everything you might need," she said in a strained voice. Her words frightened me. George bit his lower lip before turning around and jogging back to the ship. I grabbed Christelle by the shoulder and spun her around to face me.

"We can't do that, Bella. He could call the Station or who knows what—"

"Nahuel, George is my friend. I can't keep lying to him."

"But reveal all of our secrets? I don't know how he would react to that, but I'm certain it wouldn't end well. Let's think about this for a second."

"I have to tell him!" she whispered harshly. There was a pause when both of us looked at each other, not breaking the gaze. "Fine!" she rasped suddenly. "I won't tell him everything, then."

"Just leave out everything about us being vampires. You can tell him anything else you want."

"That's kind of the whole story, don't you think?" she hissed. A step was heard from the ship. We both abruptly turned to see George with a filled duffle bag. His face was scrunched unpleasantly, as was mine.

"So, where to?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"This way," I said, turning around to lead the way.

I didn't look back at either of them for the whole walk back. I didn't want to see his face; looking at it left me a black future.


End file.
